


The Devil and the Damned

by MotherLilith



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: 1950s, Alley Sex, Anal Sex, Angst, Awkwardness, BDSM, Bisexuality, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Claiming Bites, Dominance, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Fear, First Time, Flirting, Gangsters, Gay Sex, Hal Yorke Has Issues, Hand Jobs, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Internalized Homophobia, Intoxication, London, M/M, Mating Bites, Multi, Name-Calling, Nick Cutler Has Issues, Nick Cutler likes Blood, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Non-Consensual Touching, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Sexism, Physical Abuse, Pre-Canon, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Self-Hatred, Sex, Sexist Language, Submission, Vaginal Sex, Vampire Bites, Vampire Sex, Vampires, Verbal Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25432534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherLilith/pseuds/MotherLilith
Summary: "Hell is empty, and all the devils are here"It's 1952, and Hal gives Cutler an ultimatum: kill or be killed. Even though Hal is his master in every sense of the word, Cutler's fighting hard to hang onto his last little piece of humanity. But when Hal's ex comes to town along with a cupboard full of skeletons, the games they play become so much more interesting...
Relationships: Hal Yorke/Original Female Character(s), Nick Cutler/Hal Yorke, Nick Cutler/Original Female Character(s), Nick Cutler/Original Male Character(s)
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

Nick Cutler sensed Fergus's approach long before the man knocked on his door. He could smell the stench of him. The sweat, the beer and beneath it, the blood. He had had been out feeding, though it was only early evening.

"Rise and shine, sweet cheeks" called Fergus, "Lord Harry wants to see you."

Cutler hesitated. He had known this was coming. What would happen if he refused? Fergus wouldn’t hurt him, much. At least without Hal’s permission. But then, if he proved stubborn Fergus would call Louis and Dennis and that would make it worse. They’d drag him out of his room, jeering, calling him names to taunt him; weak, pathetic, failure. They would say that Cutler should be glad he is Hal’s boy, because he’s barely even two years old and won’t survive in the big bad world without them to protect him—it was unbearable.

Who bails you out of jail when you get blood drunk and bust up a gang of mods? Cutler thought. Who makes sure to dot the ‘i’s and cross the ‘t’s when we acquire a new property? Who makes the bodies disappear under a mountain of paperwork? Who pays our bloody taxes? _Me._ Not that you lot care. I’m pretty sure you’re all illiterate, anyway.

But he gritted his teeth and ignored them. Hal knew his value, even if he didn’t show it. Hal had told Cutler (Nick, he’d called him Nick then) when he recruited him that he was like him: _a history maker_. Even if he didn’t always show his appreciation of him, Cutler knew that Hal had seen something in him that night in the police cell. That was the real reason he had been chosen.

Still, he dreaded the thought of what was to come.

He’d fucked up. Badly. Cutler didn’t want to think of the mess he’d made. The business, and potential gang war was one thing, but Hal had taken Cutler’s sloppiness for _disobedience_ which was the worst crime he could have committed in his maker’s book. And to top it all off, if Cutler had just finished the job, then none of this would have happened.

And then he felt an insistent tugging, a need stronger even than his compulsion for blood. _Hal was calling him._ His stomach lurched in anticipation, and, he admitted to himself, in hunger. He hoped Hal would offer him a drink before his punishment, but he wasn’t counting on it. Given what he had done, Cutler would probably have to go without.

He opened the door to his room and stepped out into the corridor. Fergus smirked at him.

"You look like shit, mate”.

"Go do one, Fergus”, Cutler growled.

Fergus laughed. “Just an observation. But seriously, you’re a mess. Fix your hair or something.”

Cutler didn’t respond but adjusted his collar and tried to flatten his unruly hair with the palm of his hand. He’d hastily thrown on some trousers (he’d forgotten to iron them) and a white shirt (he’d buttoned it up wrong), which partially accounted for his scruffy appearance. It wasn’t his fault he hadn’t had time to dress properly, which took him three times as long now that he couldn’t see himself in the mirror.

Though he knew all too well the way to Hal’s room, he followed Fergus down the hall and up a flight of stairs to the door. Fergus knocked and when he was told to enter, opened the door and motioned Cutler in.

Lord Hal sat at his desk in the centre of the room, cigarette in hand. He was dressed impeccably in a black suit with a red silk tie. His dark hair was slicked back and parted neatly at the side. He didn’t look up from the papers he was perusing, but Cutler noticed that his eyes were no longer moving across the page.

It was dark in Hal’s room and despite himself, he shivered. The curtains were drawn so that the only source of light came from a single desk lamp which pooled into the darkness. Beside the lamp on the desk was a crystal decanter full of dark red liquid, and next to it a glass.

And then Hal smiled coldly and with an exhalation of smoke said, "Ah, Cutler. Thank you for joining me."

As if I had a choice, Cutler thought. But instead, said nothing, eyes lowered to the Persian rug on which he knelt.

“You may leave us Fergus.”

“Right you are, Lord Hal.”

Fergus left the room, closing the door behind him. As it clicked shut, Cutler felt his sense of dread increasing.

Hal got up and circled around the desk. He moved like a predator stalking its prey: lithe, confident and deadly.

He surveyed Cutler coolly, his face a blank mask betraying no sign of emotion.

“Are you thirsty, Cutler?”

“Yes.” Cutler blurted, before clapping one hand over his mouth. He hadn’t meant to seem so eager, so desperate.

Hal laughed at the younger man’s embarrassment.

“Of course, you are. You’re always thirsty.” Hal gestured to the decanter that sat on the desk. "Go ahead, help yourself."

Nervously, Cutler stepped forward and took up the decanter. His hands were shaking as he uncorked it and smelled the rich, heady perfume that filled his nose. Quickly he poured the sweet, life giving blood into a glass and, unable to stop himself, drained it in one swallow. As it slid down his throat, he felt the liquid’s vitality restoring his strength, pouring its power into him and filling him with confidence. What did it matter what he had done when this, _this_ felt so good? His hand shaking, he moved to refill the glass.

The blow from Hal brought Cutler to his knees. The crystal glass fell and shattered on the floor.

“This” He hissed. “Is exactly the problem”

“What?” Cutler spluttered.

“You’re weak and greedy and you allow your thirst to cloud your judgement. Stupid vampires do not last long in this world Cutler. You won’t last five years if you carry on like this.”

“Lord Hal. Please, let me explain-ow!”

Hal knocked him to the floor, and Cutler laid there sprawled and clutching his nose. He could feel the blood coming.

Hal took another pull on his cigarette, watching the younger man’s hurt expression. Cutler was always so careless, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Answer me this, Cutler. What good are you if you are not discreet? How can I depend on you to protect our interests, business and otherwise?”

“I’m sorry, Hal, please…”

"No, I don’t want your grovelling." Hal tossed his cigarette away, grinding it into the carpet with the heel of his shoe. “I want you to understand the severity of what you have done.”

“I-I understand. It was wrong. I never should have laid eyes on the girl.”

“She was the sister of my associates, Mr Eddie ‘the strangler’ and Mr Charlie ‘masher’ Hill.

“I know-I”

“Stop interrupting me Cutler, or I am going to get _very_ angry.”

Cutler shut his mouth, pinching his nose to stem the bleeding, and looked back down at the carpet.

“We had just had a successful meeting in which we settled the terms of our new agreement, and the first thing I see as we leave the meeting is the girl running towards us, covered in blood and screaming for her brothers.”

“I thought she was one of their whores! I didn’t know, I swear to you my lord…”

“Of course you fucking didn’t! This could have been dealt with _very_ differently if you’d only bled her in the alley and snapped her neck". Hal made a disgusted noise. "But no. I had to pretend that I had ordered the attack as a warning, just to show that you weren’t a total incompetent, and by extension, myself.”

Hal paced around Cutler restlessly.

“Luckily they were unarmed, as per our arrangement. But now our interests, _my_ interests are in disarray. None of the other humans, with the exception of the McKay's on account of their feud with the Hills, will cooperate with us. They think we’re too unpredictable, too _reckless_.”

Hal was standing behind Cutler now and placed his cold, white hands on the kneeling man’s shoulders. He bent down to whisper in Cutlers ear as he said, “I had _such_ plans for you Nick, but this time you’ve really fucked things up.”

Cutler swallowed, terror slicing blue and icy through the haze of blood. He was growing increasingly worried that he wasn’t as invaluable to Hal as he had thought.

“Now” Hal said, pulling back and walking over to the coat rack next to the door, “I have made arrangements to leave London very soon.” He slipped off his suit jacket and tie, hanging them up neatly. “But luckily for you, I’m going to give you a choice.”

He walked back towards Cutler, expertly removing the ruby cufflinks from his sleeves and setting them on the desk with a _clink_. He began rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Cutler was trembling on his knees, scared of what Hal was about to do.

“You can remain here in London” Hal said. “Remain a pathetic _-look at me!”._ Cutler looked up at his master in fear and saw Hal’s black eyes glittering with anger. “Remain a _pathetic_ excuse for a vampire who's too cowardly even to kill for himself…and wait for them to come for you.”

Hal paused for a moment to let that sink in before adding, “They could keep you alive for years you know. Decades, while they tortured you. I hear the brothers favour pliers. And imagine, in all that time, not a single drop of blood would ever touch your thirsty lips.”

The words had the desired effect. Cutler whimpered, cringing away from him, whilst still kneeling on the rug.

“Or” Hal said, unbuttoning his shirt. “You can come with us and embrace your true nature. And you know what that means, Cutler: no more blood unless you start killing.”

Cutler’s eyes went to the decanter on the table.

“Please, please…”

His throat was already dry and aching for another sip, if only he could stretch out his hand…

Hal caught the young vampire's wrist and held it fast.

“So, Nick Cutler. What will it be?”

There really was no choice, Cutler thought. It was as inevitable as the black jaws of fate that had closed over him, swallowing him whole. 

“Don’t leave me here”, he pleaded.

Hal smiled in satisfaction, but his eyes still glittered with malice.

“I won’t leave you Cutler. We will go to Brighton together. But first, you must be taught how to obey. How to submit to me.”

“Yes, my lord.” Cutler said quietly.

“Good boy”

Cutler looked into Hal's dark eyes which captured his gaze and seemed to be sucking him into their black abyss. His maker had dwelt in that darkness for more than four hundred years, if Fergus was to be believed. That was nearly half a millennia! How was Cutler supposed to withstand that? It was unimaginable, like an unstoppable force of nature, tectonic plates shifting the ground beneath his feet, glaciers falling away into the sea. And what was he, Nick Cutler, in comparison? An insignificant creature who had barely lived longer than a mayfly.

Cutler became aware that he wasn’t breathing, not that he needed to breathe anymore. He held still as Hal leaned forward and, quick as a snake used his nails to slice open Cutler's shirt. He winced at the pain, but did not move. It would be worse if he moved. He watched as the blood formed where Hal’s nails had slashed his chest. The blood came slower than a human’s, his heart beating only once a minute, but it came. Hal put his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean.

The taste seemed to excite him because he lunged at Cutler with a snarl and pinned him to the floor. Hal, his master looked down at him wildly, baring his fangs in provocation. Cutler felt his own fangs extend defensively, and his eyesight sharpen as darkness fell over them. He hissed weakly, but this only seemed to excite Hal, who growled in response. Then he wrenched Cutlers arms above his head and held them down as tight as iron manacles. Cutler was trembling now, but unable to move as Hal leaned over him and sank his fangs into Cutler’s exposed neck. It was like that first, terrible bite all over again, and Cutler cried out in pain of it. But soon the pain dulled and there was only the slurping, indecent sound of Hal drinking him and the feeling of shame as he felt himself becoming aroused.

And then, Cutler heard it, the drumming. The slow, unrelenting feeling of his blood joining with Hal’s, as it was supposed to. The primal song of Hal’s blood called irresistibly to his own in a way that he had forgotten until now. And then he knew instinctively that his blood belonged to Hal, that he belonged to Hal. His master, his maker.

Cutler moaned in ecstasy, pleasure flowing through his body as he was claimed, as Hal held him and bit him and drank him. _I am for you_ , he thought. _Only for you._ And then Hal brought their mouths together and Cutler tasted his own blood on Hal’s lips. It was maddening, intoxication, and he felt himself getting lightheaded, like the first time he’d gotten drunk on apple cider as a boy.

Hal released Cutler’s limp hands, his own strong ones sliding down the man’s chest. Neatly, he undid Cutler’s trousers and slipped his hand inside, wrapping his long fingers around his hardened cock. Cutler moaned and shifted slightly, exposing himself so that Hal could touch him.

"Please..." he begged.

"You are young and stupid and pathetic, Nick."

 _He called me Nick_ , Cutler thought through his haze. _Like_ _Rachel called me Nick._

“Yes, master”.

Hal pulled down Cutler’s pants and, and without warning, sank his fangs into Cutler’s femoral artery.

The shock of the pain was so astounding that Cutler thought he would black out. A moment later, it was overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure so intense that it was almost as bad as the pain itself and Cutler couldn’t stop himself from screaming.

“You are _mine_ , and you _will_ obey me” Hal growled.

“Yes, my lord”, Cutler moaned weakly.

Cutler could feel his blood swirling inexorably with Hal’s as his master’s mouth and lips and tongue sucked at his thigh, and his hand stroked his cock in rhythm with the blood that he was taking. He thrust into the hand, wanting Hal as he had never wanted him before, wanting his maker to make him come so badly that he thought he would die all over again. Wanting him to fuck him, to turn him inside out and unmake him just so that he could keep feeling this way forever. And just like that, he was coming into Hal’s hand almost without realising, and it felt so good that Hal was there, that he was the one making him come.

Hal pulled back to look at Cutler for a moment, before turning his head so that the other side of his neck was exposed. He sank his fangs in there, and Cutler moaned feebly in protest, before another wave of pleasure crashed over him once more and swept him down into a dark ocean of ecstasy.


	2. Chapter 2

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-

Maddy closed her eyes and tried to ignore the sound of blood pumping through the veins of the other passengers.  
It was as unceasing as the whirring of gears and pistons that propelled them on electric rails towards London. How she wants to end it by tearing them all open and bathing the filthy carriage in their blood. But she couldn't afford it, not now.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-

Don’t think of the sound. Or the hot sun beating down on the roof of the train or the scorching light flooding in through the windows.

Across the aisle, a fat man was sweating profusely, and she could smell the moisture sliding down his neck, hear the sound of his labouring heart. The two women next to him clucked and squawked in west country accents, clutching sticky, squalling babies to their breasts. How she missed private compartments on trains! You could do whatever you wanted in there and no one was any the wiser, provided that you kept the noise down. But, like so many other things Maddy did not want to think about right now, that was in the past.

She could feel her own sweat soaking through her cotton dress and tried not to inhale the damp, stuffy air full of humans breathing. She ran her tongue over the tip of one fang and felt it draw blood. A mistake. It was calming for a moment, before the furnace of her thirst blazes up hotter than before.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-

A girl of about seventeen was sitting two seats in front of her, hair tied back in a red scarf. She unbuttoned the top of her sky-blue blouse, revealing skin as pale and smooth as cream. Maddy smelled the summer in her hair and saw the pulse beating in her slender neck like a hummingbird. She felt herself leaning closer and how her fingers were digging grooves into the worn leather of the train seat. Sweat dripped down her face, but she wiped it away with her handkerchief. It was torture, just being here in the carriage and she was so tired from the long journey. What small restraint she had was quickly leaving her.

Perhaps this journey had been a mistake. She should have left at night, when it was calmer. When the cool air carried the fresh scent of diesel and damp earth and the carriages were empty except for the occasional travelling salesman, whom no one would miss. Then maybe she would have been able to think straight.

 _No_ , she thought. I could not have lasted another day in that house.

It had been a hasty decision to return to London, but it was necessary. Hal was there, and London was as close to a home as she was ever going to get. It always seemed to draw her back, perhaps because she had known it back when she was human. Snow had once said that London had made her a harlot in the vein of Moll Flanders, but of course he'd been mocking her. Maddy had never married, never grown old and rich, never even paid back her debts to her Madame. She'd never had the chance.

But London was inevitable, and once again she found herself returning to it. Besides, it was one of the easiest hunting grounds in the country. In a city of millions, who was going to notice one or two, even ten disappearing? And in the event that the bodies were discovered, Hal’s gang controlled the police with an iron fist. There was no way they could be discovered.

Maddy had felt herself changing over the last few months. It had become harder to wake in the mornings with the hot sun beating down outside. Food had begun to taste bland, with the exception of meat, the rarer the better. The things she usually enjoyed; painting, going to parties, seeing friends and even making love, all seem pointless and boring. She began to feel unfocused and hazy as the days grew hotter, and she was unable to even concentrate long enough to read the paper. She was like a lizard: entirely subject to the conditions of her environment. She could do nothing but lie in the darkness of the bedroom, sweltering in the heat until twilight.

But as the light dimmed and the sun sank below the horizon, she seemed to sharpen into clarity. She could think clearly, do things effortless and her senses grew stronger and keener than they had been in years. She felt energy and possibility coursing through her like electricity. Like lightning branching out unpredictably and scorching the earth to cinders. She had recognised the signs well enough, and knew that the red thirst would soon follow. The high priestess danced with death upon the wheel, and the tide was coming in again, promising to wash everything clean away. Each night, she woke from dark and feverish dreams to find that the shoreline had crept just a little closer.

Maddy knew that she needed to be away before she did something she’d regret. She would be gone by the time the tide washed her out into the depths of the wine dark sea.

She would never set eyes on Clara again, never lie next to her as morning light streamed in through the gap in the curtains, never touch her skin, taste her lips. Never.

She had to leave. It was as simple as that. She couldn’t have the blood of one she loved on her hands. Not again. Some vampires didn’t think twice about murdering their human lovers, even if they’d lived with them for over a decade. But they were fools. She had been around long enough to see how guilt and self-loathing twisted them up inside, before eventually driving them completely mad. Even brutal, merciless Eliza and resilient old Ishmael, who had lived for over seven hundred years, had staked themselves out of grief. She would not make the same mistake they had.

She didn’t even leave a note. She could have, but what would be the point?

Clara would understand why she had done it. She knew everything there was to know about her, and miraculously, despite everything, had loved her anyway.

It was terrifying, the feeling of her humanity slipping away into the abyss. But she could do nothing to stop it. It was too late now. She could almost have torn opened Clara’s throat and felt no guilt. Almost.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-

Still, that didn’t mean it was a good idea to tear out the throat of the girl in front of her. She could just imagine ripping out her arteries in a gush of sweet, warm, quenching life…

Stop thinking about it stop thinking about it stop thinking about it, now!

The train shuddered to a stop and the doors creaked opened. Only a few passengers disembarked, most were bound for the centre. More got on, and the doors closed and the train was off once again.

“Excuse me, may I sit here?”

She looked up to see the boy who had just entered the train carriage. He was dressed in the suit of a young city clerk and good looking in a Tony Curtis sort of way. But she didn’t like the way he was leering at her, and knew that it meant he wouldn’t be keeping his hands to himself if she let him sit beside her. As he continued to lean over her she noticed that the Aqua Velva that he wore couldn’t quite mask the scent of young, fresh B negative.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-

As the train rolled on inexorably towards the city, the clouds burst open and rain fell onto dry land, washing away the dust and dirt of civilisation and making the earth bloom once more.


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you like that?” Hal asks, staring down at Cutler.

Cutler mumbles something unintelligible in response. Talking makes him extremely uncomfortable. If he starts talking, he'll start thinking about what they're doing right now. The things they've been doing together night after night...

Hal pulls back from him and asks with a mocking smile on his lips, “Hmmm? What was that Cutler?”.

The man knows exactly what he's doing to him, and revels in his discomfort.

“Yes…” he answers weakly.

“Tell me.”

Cutler knows what Hal wants to hear. He wants him to beg, to plead for him because that’s what gets him off.

“I like it…I like what you’re doing to me”, he manages. And it’s true, even if he can’t fully admit it to himself.

“And?”

“And…I don’t want you to stop”. He doesn’t. And wishes that wasn’t the truth. Perhaps it would be easier if he wasn’t actually _enjoying_ this. Cutler wishes that Hal would keep fucking him so that he won't have to think about what a disgusting pervert he is for _actually liking it_.

As Hal watches him, he feels like his maker can read all of this on his face. And yet, he’s still waiting to hear more.

“Please Hal…please don’t stop.” Cutler says, praying that it will satisfy Hal enough to carry on, because he needs to come, needs the release that only Hal can give him.

Cutler gasps as Hal grabs him by the throat. Quietly, he whispers in his ear “What did you call me Cutler?”

“What?” he gasps.

The hand tightens around his vocal cords.

“You must address me as _My Lord_ , or I’ll bite out your tongue.”

“Yes, my Lord”, he rasps out obediently.

Hal holds him by the neck for a moment, before continuing to fuck him. Harder this time. Cutler is so relieved that the game is over that he feels like he could die all over again. Hal is looking away and doesn’t seem to notice, like he’s almost lost interest in Cutler now.

But then, he looks down and his black eyes meet Cutler’s.

“I made you. I own you and you’re mine to do with as I please”, he says, sinking his teeth into Cutler’s neck. He cries out in pain, in pleasure. He's no longer sure where one ends and the other begins. He’s so close now, so close and the blood excites Hal too, making him thrust faster and harder into him almost unconsciously. As they move together, Cutler’s pleasure builds to the point that it begins to feel as though he can’t possibly endure this much sensation, can’t contain it, can’t take everything that Hal is giving him.

And and then he’s coming and Hal’s name bursts from his lips as he spills himself between them.

Hal pulls out of him before he’s finished, and brings himself off in several quick, masterful strokes. Then without a word, Hal gets up and goes to clean himself off in the shower, leaving Cutler sprawled and exhausted on his master's bed.

*

Maddy dabs her mouth, her chin, her neck a little too, and reapplies her scarlet lipstick.

She notices that there is red stain on the collar of her dress. She rubs it, but it’s no use. She sighs, regretting that she chose to wear a white dress. So impractical, especially for travelling. She remembers the reason why most vampires traditionally wear black.

It’s better in the bathroom without all the other passengers crowding in. As she watches the landscape of hay fields and farmhouses stream past, she wonders what lies ahead at the end of the track. She unclasps her purse and opens it to take out the black velvet bag containing her cards. This was the clearest way to know, much easier than trying to decode the fragmentary images thrown to her in dreams.

Yes, there she was in the Wheel of Fortune and the Eight of Cups. She laughed when she drew the Knight of Swords. Fergus never changed. Who was this now, the Moon and the Page of Cups inverted? Running parallel to Hal’s Emperor inverted. The Lovers inverted. Bad signs, but crossed with the Tower so perhaps there was an opportunity there…

But then she turns another card and there dances The Devil.

Maddy shivers. What kind of mess was she getting herself into?

When the train stops at St. Pancras, she waits for the rush off passengers to flow out the doors before she steps from the train. She winds her way through the flow of humanity, making her way to the taxi rank where she hails a black cab. As he’s taking her bags to the boot, she climbs in and lays down on the back seat.

“I’m a little faint”, she says to the driver, “But there’s no need to worry. It's just the heat.”

This way, he won’t question her absence in the mirror. She hands him a manila address card.

As they drive through the crowded streets, Maddy watches the city unfold. She hadn't returned to London since the war ended. Many buildings that fell to rubble were being rebuilt or built anew. Modern. Modernist. That’s what they called this architectural progress. She calls it brutal, lifeless and mourns the beauty of the old London that fell under the bombs. But London was forever changing, that was its nature. Once a fishing village, it had risen out of the mud of the Thames to become a city under the heel of the Romans. It's decaying wood had turned to ash once, twice, and then risen again stronger and more prosperous than ever in brick and stone. Now concrete and glass were rising to the heavens, and the points of light that lit the night sky were aeroplanes.

But despite the modern façade, The Devil looked down mockingly on the diaspora of humanity sprawling out in every direction, falling over one another to make the best of what they were given, what little they were given by the men at the top of the pile.


	4. Chapter 4

The drumming of the hot water cascading onto his body almost makes Cutler forget the night before. Hal had been seething with rage after his dog had lost the fight, and had taken his anger out on him. Cutler wondered if the full moon didn’t have something to do with it too. He always felt stronger, more alert under its influence. Perhaps that was why he’d back talked and told Hal he should have taken better care of his dog if he expected it to win.

He'd said it before he could stop himself, in front of Hal's men and everything.

Hal had made him pay for that.

Cutler grabs a flannel, scrubbing his arms and chest. He winces at the pain in his torso, and eases off a little. When he looks down, he sees patches of purple blooming on his pale skin. But it was better when it hurt. Less complicated. It didn’t make him feel guilty about doing what they were doing. If he could just lie there and take it, then he could relax and not have to think too much about what it meant.

When he was back in school, some of the boys had bullied him, calling him names like nancy boy, faggot, queer. But he’d thought nothing of it. All the other awkward, bookish boys got the same treatment. The names continued even after he'd asked out several of the girls in his year. Though, they had all turned him down. Just hadn’t seen his potential, he supposed.

It was different when he met Rachel at University. She was studying to become a teacher, and he was studying law. She was like an angel, so pure and lovely and _kind_ above all else. She was as shy as he was, but when he finally mustered the courage to ask her out, she blushed and said yes. Much to his surprise. And then, inevitably they’d gotten engaged, and he’d started working at a prestigious law firm in the City.

Finally, he was moving up in the world. Most of the boys he’d gone to school had ended up as labourers or worked down the docks. Though, there was talk now that they’d be closing in the next few years. And then his parents had died within a year of each other, and throughout it all Rachel had stayed true, supporting him with her strength and compassion. By the time she was walking towards him up the aisle of St. Anne’s, he knew that there was nothing that they couldn’t overcome.

Almost nothing.

But he wasn’t going to think about that now.

He squirts shampoo into his hand and rubs it into his wet curls. The soap gets in his eye and stings a little, but he washes it out with water. He swears it’s getting colder though, so he turns the temperature dial up.

A lot can change in two years. In this new world, the only women he met were whores, and then only briefly. Just because he was a vampire didn’t mean he was any good at the whole charismatic seduction rigmarole. That was Hal’s forte, and to a lesser extent, Fergus’s. The latter was more of a cheeky-chappy and was less fussy than Hal, who prided himself on enjoying the finer things in life. Women, men, it didn’t seem to matter. They just had to have a certain ‘Je ne sais quois’ to pique his interest.

When he reaches his neck, the pain is worse than his chest, and he has to stop for a moment and blink back tears. He feels the wounds on his neck closing, but they still throb with pain if he goes to touch them. He wishes they would heal quicker than they are, but it’s not as if he’s getting any blood at the moment. Despite Hal’s ultimatum, he still can’t bring himself to kill, no matter how thirsty he is. Just the thought of the pounding, wet life coursing through veins is enough to make his throat burn with thirst. No more blood until he can get it himself. It’s been one month, and he feels like hell.

The water feels cold now, even though the bathroom is full of steam. His own personal hell is freezing over. When his hands travel down his chest to soap his privates, he realises that he is still aroused from the night before. He thought of Hal taking him again and again, and shudders as his dick begins to harden.

God, why did he have to be so depraved? He thought briefly about the girl in the alley, how he’d tasted her blood before she’d run off screaming. But then the memory of his punishment overwhelms it, and he’s stroking his dick and thinking about Hal again. It was almost compulsive, he couldn't stop thinking about the man!

But if Cutler’s being honest with himself, he hasn’t really felt aroused by anyone except Hal since he became a vampire. He wonders if that had something to do with the fact that Hal had been the one to recruit him. But then, Louis and Dennis didn’t seem to feel that way about Hal, and they were both his recruits. Though Hal had also recruited Fergus, and if the things that the man had let slip while drunk were true, Cutler was pretty sure that he and Hal had a history. But he definitely did _not_ want to know anymore about that.

So, he supposed that the jury was out.

Christ! He needed to stop thinking about this for the hundredth time. Some days he swore he thought about nothing else. Over the last month, his un-life had consisted of paperwork by day and deviant sexual behaviour by night. He supposed it could be worse. Keep Calm and Carry On, and all that. Though the war had been over for seven years now. When he really thought about it, everything was over for him. His family were all dead, and he had been cut adrift from the rest of humanity. Occasionally, Cutler had the sensation that he was drowning alone somewhere in the dark, cold Atlantic.

The shower water feels icy on his skin now, and he’s lost his hard on. He realises that he’s shivering, so he gets out and wraps a large towel around himself. He notices then how dizzy he feels, so much so that he staggers back and has to lean against the wall for support. His head is spinning, thinking about Hal, the ecstasy he feels when the man takes him and drinks him, the regret, the guilt, the shame, and how right it feels to be punished for it, how good Hal fucking him makes him feel, when he tears into him and tastes him and…

He puts his hand to his neck and sees blood on his hands. It's flowing slowly but steadily from the wounds, so he staggers to the medicine cabinet and rummages through it looking for a First Aid Kit. No such luck. He grabs the toilet roll and bundles up a wad of tissue and presses it against his neck. Then he sinks down onto the floor with his head in his hands and waits for the world to stop spinning.

*

She knew that Hal had seen the car arrive pull up outside house. And when she stepped out, shading her eyes from the sun, she knew that he was looking down on her from one of the windows.

Well it’s too late now, she thought. He knows I’m here. But I’ve already made my choice. Made it hundreds of miles back, really.

She found that the door was unlocked, so she walked right into the lobby. Being inside was a relief after heat of the sun pounding down on the taxi. The granite floors were clean and cool, and before her was a carved mahogany staircase.

“Miss? Are you lost?”

She turned to see a stocky vampire with black slicked back hair. He was wearing a pinstripe suit that was much too small for him. The doorman.

A smile spread across his face, and he took a step towards her.

“You must be, to have walked in here alone.”

So, he saw a pretty girl in a white sun dress that looked like lunch. How unfortunate for him.

Then his eyes turned black and he bared his fangs at her.

It was pathetic, really.

“Are you really that stupid?”, she asked.

He blinked.

She stepped forward and easily picked him up by the neck. The young vampire instinctively spluttered and gasped for air, though he no longer required it.

“No, really boy. I asked you a question.”

“I-I don’t...”

She heard the sound of bare feet on the stairs.

“Kindly release my man”

Hal was walking towards her like a panther stalking through the jungle.

She dropped the pinstriped vampire to the floor.

She thought about giving him a kick, but then realized she was wearing heels.

“Louis, fetch the lady’s bags from the car outside”, Hal ordered.

The man may have been stupid, but he could take a hint. “Right you are, Lord Hal”, he wheezed, “My apologies, m’lady.” He staggered out the door.

Maddy surveyed the man standing before her. He was bare chested and wore only a pair of black pyjama trousers. He did not move towards her. Instead, he kept as still as if carved from marble. She searched his face for some familiar expression, but he was blank and unreadable. Though, he couldn’t hide that his lips were flushed with fresh blood.

He was watching her with his keen brown eyes, examining her in much the same way. She wondered how she appeared to him, after all these years. Women in these times wore makeup openly and dressed like the film star Marilyn Monroe to accentuate their bodies. It was the opposite of the androgynous look she had worn when they parted, some fifty years ago. That was how they hunted, by blending in with their prey. How they survived.

“You look different.” He stated.

She looked down at her dress absentmindedly. “It’s the ‘New Look’. Do you like it?”

He cocked his head to one side, “Do you?”

“I’m not sure.”

There was silence again between them before she asked, “What do I call you now? Henry, Harry, Hal?”.

“Anything you like”, he replied smoothly.

“But who are you?”

“You’ll have to find out.”

“Is that a challenge?”

The man smiled, “Perhaps think of it as an invitation.”

Slowly he knelt and took her hand in his, kissing it softly.

*

Cutler spent the day recovering in bed, dead to the world around him. By the time the sun had begun its descent, he'd awoken to find that he felt reasonably better, albeit still weak and shaky. Not to mention the dull ache of thirst which never went away. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was six o’clock. Dinner was served at half past six sharp every evening, regardless of the day’s activities. Hal believed that punctuality was the best way to ensure discipline.

Cutler sighed, and slowly but carefully began to dress for dinner. He would need to eat if he was to keep his strength up, though he knew that it would do little to make him feel better. He touched his neck gingerly. He had eventually managed to find a compress and had secured it with a bandage. Though he was healing, he hoped that it wouldn’t bleed through and stain his shirt collar.

When he was presentable, he went down to dinner. Upon entering the dining room, he noticed that the table had been set for six but that he was the first one there. He sat down in one of the antique chairs and waited for five whole minutes before Louis and Dennis arrived, followed by Fergus. Even from across the room, Cutler could tell that they’d been feeding. There was not a drop of blood on any of them, but together they smelled like a slaughterhouse. It made his mouth water. He touched a white linen napkin to his mouth self-consciously.

They seated themselves at the table, all but ignoring Cutler. Dennis took a knife from his pocket and began cleaning his fingernails.

“Cor, the tits on that one tonight, boys.” Louis said.

“Massive, weren’t they? That one had a lot of blood in her!” Dennis laughed.

“Plenty to go around”, Fergus smirked at Cutler. “Bet you wish you’d come with us now, eh? You look like you could use a little pick me up.”

“I’m fine”, Cutler said with a grimace.

Fergus chuckled. “No need for that tone, lad. Not our problem you were asleep when we called for you, now is it?”

Cutler knew with crystal clear certainty that if he’d gone with them earlier, he would have killed someone. It would have been pure instinct, a predator’s response to starvation. The thought of it made him shiver with dread. He wasn’t that far gone, yet. Luckily for him, he had slept through the hunt. And he had an excuse, if Hal even bothered to ask. _I collapsed on the floor because you drank so much of my fucking blood last night!_

“Next time I’ll come.” Cutler replied.

Fergus rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, next time. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Cutler tugged at his shirt to loosen his tie a little, wincing at how the collar chafed his neck. His throat was dry, and he automatically reached for his wine glass, though the drink did little to slake his thirst. It wasn't fair. He was so thirsty and there was Fergus sitting there having just fed, the smug shit. Cutler could smell the blood on the man’s hot breath. He was barely paying attention to what the others were saying.

“We’re still holding on to Limehouse…”

“Yeah but they’ll take it back soon, if we can’t get the others to work with us.”

“Losing ground…”

“…Regrouping doesn’t sound like such a bad plan, would be nice to get out of the city for a bit.”

You’d think they were talking about the football, Cutler thought. He drained his glass and poured himself another.

Fergus shrugged. “Yeah, I reckon Hal’s sick of it. Needs a change. We’ve been here since the war, and we’re barely hanging on. The problem is all these new gangs springing up left right and centre. Would have been different if the Hills had agreed to the deal, but now that’s off the table thanks to someone.” He jerked his thumb in Cutler’s direction.

“Why not Bristol?” Louis asked. “I hear it’s good for vampires these days.”

“Because fucking Herrick, that’s why.” Fergus snarled.

Louis shrugged, “Fair point.”

“Hal reckons there’s money to be made in Brighton”, said Dennis.

A grin spread across Louis’ face. “My ma used to take me there when I was a kid. They’ve got slot machines, a big wheel and a miniature railway running along the sea.”

“Exactly, lots of daytrippers go there to catch the sun and relax. And none of the locals notice if they go missing.” said Fergus. “Plus there are strip joints, whore houses and gambling dens galore”.

“It’s true, I was down that way a few years ago”, Dennis said. “Police are easy as pie to handle there. Only thing they care about is that everything appears normal to keep the tourists coming.”

“So, if Brighton’s all gravy, why are we stuck in London?” Cutler interrupted. “What’s Hal waiting for?”

“Never you mind”, Fergus snapped.

Cutler looked at him. There was something the man wasn’t telling him. But he wasn’t going to ask.

“I’m going to go buy cigarettes.” he mumbled.

“Good luck. You’ll need it, the state you’re in!” Fergus cackled. “Just don’t make another mess for us to clean up.”

Cutler said nothing as he stumbled out of the room.

*

The tobacconist’s was still open, and thankfully empty. He selected a packet of Pall Mall’s from the shelf and threw it down on the counter. He managed to smile at the shopkeeper, a good-looking man of about his own age, and tried not to focus on the sound of his heart beat.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-

“Do you like American tobacco?” The man asked.

“What? Oh, I suppose so. I think I’m just used to it now.”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-

In fact, Cutler had smoked them since University. A way to impress girls, he’d thought. A conversation starter. It hadn’t worked.

Thump-thump, thump-thump-

The man laughed, his lips curving up into a smile.

“I know what you mean! I used to smoke them all the time. They’re not really to my taste anymore though.”

Cutler nodded. He bet the man behind the counter didn’t have any problems getting girls. No ring on his finger, though.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-

“You know, these new one’s have new filters. They guard against throat scratch.” The man said.

Now that he was dead that wasn’t a problem, Cutler thought bitterly. He no longer got coughs from smoking, even in the winter. But how sore his throat was!

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-

He adjusted his collar.

“I’ll buy those ones then”

The man smiled. “Thank you, that will be…”

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-

_Pall Mall- Reward yourself. Get satisfying flavour… So friendly to your taste! ,_ the advertisement behind the man read.

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-

He handed the money over, accidentally brushing the shop keeper’s fingers. Cutler jerked his hand back, as if burnt. He looked up in panic, but the man was still smiling at him. There was a pause, as they made eye contact. Cutler could feel his fangs lengthening, how good it would feel to sink his teeth into the man’s neck…

Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-

“Are you busy this evening, at all?” the man asked.

The moment was broken.

“Yes. Very busy. Good night.” Cutler snarled, throwing the coins onto the counter in disgust.

He wouldn’t be buying cigarettes there again.

*

Though the dining room was fully fitted out with modern electrics, the room was bathed entirely in candlelight. Cutler supposed that it was hard to change one’s habits after hundreds of years. And besides, electric bulbs revealed how ghastly pale they all were. Hardly the most glamorous lighting to dine in. But by the light of the candles, they looked almost human.

The food had already arrived. They’d begun eating without him, but had stopped and fallen silent when he entered. He’d only been gone five minutes, but already he felt like the ghost at the feast. He was even cold and shivering to boot.

Hal was sitting at the head of the table.

“Cutler. You’re late for dinner”, he said in a carefully clipped tone.

“I’m sorry, I just went out to buy cigarettes”, he replied, keeping his head lowered.

“Never mind that now, sit down and eat.” Hal looked him over with a frown, “You certainly look like you need to.”

Cutler looked up and saw that there was a Bettie Page look alike sitting in his seat. Her mouth became a wide, red smile which unsettled him for reasons he didn’t understand. He didn’t return it. Though his senses were dull, he could tell that there wasn’t a single human heartbeat in the room. If there had been at that moment, it would have been all that he could hear.

That isn’t a woman, he realised. That’s a creature pretending to be human, just like the rest of us.

“This is Madeline Shawe, Cutler. She is my guest. You will address her a ‘ma’am’ or ‘my lady’”.

Cutler frowned, he had so many questions. The first one of being, there are female vampires? Then why? Rachel, she could have been…

“Cutler?”

“Yes, my lord. I understand.”

“Good. Now sit”

Hal gestured to the empty seat next to Fergus, and Cutler gratefully walked over and sank down into it. Cutler noticed then the red decanter in the middle of the table, and the wine glasses that were not filled with wine. There was not a glass set out for him, though. He felt himself salivating, and not from the dish which sat in front of him. Nevertheless, he picked up a knife and fork and started eating.

“So, where was I?” Hal said.

The woman sighed. “Budapest. 1750, or there about.”

Hal clapped his hands together, his eyes glittering. “Ah yes! So, after all that I was taken by monks from the order of St Sebastian of the Cross and locked up in a cell. There was a cross carved into the door, and because I was a young vampire still affected by religious paraphernalia, I was trapped. They left me there to rot. No blood, no water, no food. Nothing for nine months.”

“You must have been bloody starving”, said Louis.

Hal nodded. “That I was, Louis, that I was. But then one of the monks came into the cell and asked me to confess my sins. If only I would confess, he said, everything would be alright. God doesn’t punish, God forgives! If only I would confess to him every last crime I had committed, every evil thought, every dark corner of my damned heart”.

“That would have taken you at least another nine months”, Fergus laughed.

Hal chuckled. “Exactly my thoughts, Fergus.”

“So then what?” Cutler asked, thirst momentarily forgotten.

Hal smiled wickedly at him. “I waited until he got close enough, and then I snapped his neck and drained him as dry as an old bone. Then, I took the key from his robe and used his body as a shield to approach the door. It worked. I was untouched by the cross and once I was out of the cell, it was easy enough to escape. But not before I killed and drank every last monk in the monastery, of course.

Cutler was impressed. He filed the story away for later and made a mental note to do the same if he ever found himself in a similar situation. There was so much to learn from Hal, he just wished he was a better student. That he had the stomach for killing. His eyes went back to the blood in the decanter

“You once told me the monk’s name was Brother Fredek”, the woman said, neatly folding her napkin. “You said that he came to you often, and that you had many conversations with him.”

Hal dismissed this information with a wave of his hand, “It’s not important.”

She said nothing and continued eating her food.

Cutler looked at the woman, with her dark curls and pretty makeup. What was she to Hal?, he thought. She was his ‘guest’, but what did that mean? She looked to be about his own age in human years, but she was certainly older than he was. But then, so were most of the vampires he was introduced to. It was embarrassing really, to be so young, so inexperienced. He remembered Christmases when all the adults would get drunk on sherry, while he was given prune juice. It was good for him, apparently. He shot another look at the decanter. Then he watched as the woman picked it up and poured herself another glass.

“Give us a fag, would you Cutler?”, said Fergus.

“W-what?”

Fergus laughed at his surprised expression.

“A ciggy, you moron. Give me those.” He grabbed the packet from Cutler and drew a cigarette. The man placed it between his lips and lit it with a match.

“No problems at the shop, then?” He asked.

“None, whatsoever.”

“Whatever you say, lad”, he laughed, exhaling a cloud of smoke in Cutler’s face.

Cutler didn’t have a clue how the man had survived for almost a hundred years when he was so bloody rude to everyone. He must have pissed off a lot of people. But then, Fergus had been with Hal for most of that time, so that was probably how he’d gotten away with it.

He looked back at the woman, Madeline. She was laughing at something Hal had said to her. Something about her easy confidence made him think that she was even older than Fergus. But there was just no way of telling, and he certainly wasn’t going to ask. Cutler realised that he had been staring at her across the table, and before he could look down she had caught his gaze. Her eyes were icy grey like the sea in winter. He shivered and broke away.

When he looked back, she was pouring a glass for Hal. She’d filled it a bit too full, and as she handed it to him a little of it spilt on the tablecloth.

The scent of it filled his nostrils, and it made Cutler lick his lips unconsciously. He couldn’t believe that he was the only one who was affected by it! But the others were all sipping blood as if it were of no more interest than tap water. He thought about grabbing the decanter and pouring the entire contents down his throat. It would be the best moment of his life, but he’d surely pay a heavy price for his disobedience. He wondered if the whole thing had been orchestrated to torture him. Indeed, he was aware that Hal was watching him closely. They were all clearly waiting for him to make a mistake. But Cutler wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Fergus cleared his throat. “Lord Hal, me and the boys have been wondering something.”

Hal tilted his head to one side. “Yes?”

“You said we’d be going to Brighton soon. That was a month ago, so we just wanted to know when.”

“We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, milord?

“Tomorrow”

“What about the business?”

“Everything has been taken care of”

Cutler was taken aback by this news. He certainly hadn’t heard anything about this until now, and judging from the stunned faces around the table, neither had they. All he knew was that there were bribes that needed paying and people who needed bailing out of jail cells.

“Hal, If we go now we’ll lose everything”, Fergus said carefully.

“Let it be lost” , Hal said dismissively. “What we’ve built isn’t worth holding onto. We’re finished in London, at least for now.”

Fergus shrugged.

“Whatever you say, milord.”

Cutler’s clenched his jaw so that he wouldn’t say anything he’d regret. Two years! he thought. Two bloody years I’ve been working for him, trying to build something that would last! Fergus and the others may be happy to chuck it all away, but not me. Not after everything I’ve lost…no. Everything he’s _taken_ from me, and he just throws it all away like that? He was seething with rage.

“Excuse me, Cutler was it?”

The woman was leaning towards him across the table.

“I'm sorry, but it appears that your neck is bleeding.”

“Excuse me?”

He saw them all turn towards him and felt the scrutiny of their eyes on him as she said,

“There’s blood on your collar.”

Without a word, Cutler got up and rushed to the bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door behind him, breathing heavily. That woman had seen, they had all seen! He was humiliated. He winced as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off to examine it. Yes, sure enough there was red seeping through the white collar. He touched the bandage on his neck gingerly and felt it soaked though. There was blood on his hand when he brought it away. He peeled back the soiled bandage to examine the wound. He stood looking into the mirror over the sink for a full minute before he realized again that he didn’t have a reflection. He almost cried out in horror, but stopped himself by biting down on his knuckles until they bled.


	5. Chapter 5

So that was Hal’s new boy, she thought. The pale, tired looking fledgling had seemed as though he were about to collapse at dinner. And he’d been so thirsty that he’d almost snatched the glass from her hand when she’d spilt it! But he hadn’t dare touch the blood, that was obvious. She wondered why Hal had imposed that rule upon him? He’d certainly never done any such thing with Fergus, who was one of the blood thirstiest vampires she knew, and that was saying something.

But Hal would soon get bored playing with him, and then what? Would the boy be killed or simply tossed aside to make way for someone else?

She disliked the way that Hal treated his recruits as disposable. Her own maker had treated her worse in a lot of ways, but he had hammered into her that creating a new vampire was not to be taken lightly. Turning someone, taking their life away and sharing with them your own, was as close to sacred as they could come. And regardless of how the fledgling turned out, you were responsible for them forever.

She thought of her own child, Ivan. Even on the other side of the continent, she could feel his presence. There was a warm wind blowing off the black sea, and he was standing on an empty beach looking up at the stars. He sensed that he was being watched but did not turn around. She hoped that he would finally be content with his new lover by his side. His wife, he called her. He had walked through the ruined streets as bombs rained down on London, and the brave, foolish girl had followed him. Maddy saw the girl reflected in his mind like fire, burning with a hunger to consume the world. She hoped some of that yearning would rub off on Ivan, who had mostly been apathetic since the turn of the century.

She found herself pulled back to the bed. It was hot in the bedroom, even though the glass doors of the balcony had been flung wide open. Occasionally the curtains were stirred by a night breeze, but even that did little to cool the humid air. She had removed her dress and now lay on the bed in her undergarments. She felt a bead of sweat running down her neck and wiped it before it could reach the string of pearls she wore at her throat.

Hal approached her with a glass of blood in his hand, his brown eyes glinting captivatingly as he handed it to her. He was still wearing the suit from dinner, but he’d removed his shoes, jacket and tie.

“You know, I saw Ivan a few years ago” he said, as though reading her mind. “He had a new girl trailing along behind him.”

She took the glass from him and inhaled its scent. It was sailor’s blood, salty with the bitter brine of the sea. When she sipped it, she tasted the joy of being on land again. He had surely been killed quickly, or this subtle flavour would never have been captured.

“Daisy’s his first recruit. She’s special to him”.

“Perhaps”, Hal murmured. “Though, he didn’t seem to mind sharing her.”

She shrugged. It meant nothing if Daisy slept with Hal, or Fergus or any of the others. Ivan was her maker, but he did not own her. Daisy was her own being, now and forever. But Hal would never understand such a thing. He was possessive when it came to his own recruits and expected them to obey his orders the letter. If any of them ever betrayed him, they wouldn’t live to see the sunrise.

Maddy took a sip from the glass and felt her cares beginning to wash away.

“It’s been over fifty years since we last saw each other, and this is what we’re talking about?” she said.

Hal sat down beside her. This close to him, she could feel how his skin was warm from the blood he’d been drinking that evening. It was uncanny how it made him seem almost human. But who was he, this familiar stranger who watched her with cold, glittering eyes?

“You’re right” he smiled. “It has been a long time. Is it too soon to ask you why you’ve come?”

She knew what he wanted to hear; how much she had missed him, how sorry she was for going away again. Well, she wasn’t going to say those things. She hadn’t missed him because she’d been happy with Clara. They’d had a whole life together that had nothing to do with him, or the others. It hadn’t been perfect, but as close to it as she could get. But she wasn’t going to share those memories with him. That would taint them, somehow.

She absentmindedly touched the necklace at her throat.

Hal seemed annoyed by her silence. “The last time I saw you, you told me to stay away. So, I did as you asked. I never even wrote to you.”

“I didn’t give you an address.”

He chuckled at that. “I still could have found you, if I’d tried.”

She huffed exasperatedly. “What do you want, a thank you?”

“No.” Hal looked deeply into her eyes, as if searching for something. “I just want to know why you went away.”

She sighed, resting her head on her hand. “It wasn’t the right time for us.”

“And now it is?”

“Maybe.”

She took another sip of the blood and felt its dark, rich taste expanding on her tongue. She’d forgotten how the feeling wrapped around you like velvet, how everything grew warm and hazy and nothing seemed to matter anymore. Things were so much easier when you didn’t give a damn, and it was so easy to lose yourself in how good it felt to drink, to kill, to fuck, to do whatever the hell you felt like doing in the moment.

Hal kissed her then, and she felt darkness falling over her eyes. She pulled back from him with a hiss, baring her fangs.

“There you are”, he whispered.

She looked at him, the curve of his jaw and the small scar on his cheek, how had she forgotten that? And his mouth was flushed with blood like her own.

He kissed her again and this time she relaxed into it, and as she did so his familiarity sent a warm wave of pleasure through her that had nothing to do with blood. It teased at the restlessness hunger within her. More, she wanted more of this, more of him.

His own fangs extended in response, and as she pulled back, she felt them catch a little and draw blood.

“Wait...” she said, hesitating. But she was as damned as he was, what was the use in holding back? Her soul had been lost long ago and nothing she did would ever bring it back. There was no use trying to be good, to be human. Not anymore.

He watched her for a moment with his glistening black eyes, the light from the candles casting a shadow across his face.

“Do you want me?” he asked.

But of course, he already knew the answer.

“Yes, yes”, she whispered. She was relieved to confess it, but to admit it also made her feel ashamed. How could she desire this terrible, devilish man so much? And yet she did, she needed him with every breathe in her body, and his blood called to hers so tantalisingly, so sensually familiar. It was as though she had been wandering in the desert and had come at last to a dark oasis under the stars.

He reached for her chin and gently tilted it up so that he could look at her. She was breathing heavily, and she felt how vulnerable and exposed her neck was. He lent in and kissed her neck, and for a moment she was terrified. But his lips were so warm, and that warmth seemed to spread from them and down to her collarbone, making her skin grow heated. She could have cried, it was so tender, so human that she almost couldn’t bear it! And then she felt his fangs grazing her neck and it made her shiver with desire. It was delicious, the feeling.

He kissed her with his greedy mouth, and she returned his kisses eagerly. She was hungry for his attention, to be the focus of his desire to the exclusion of all else.

“Stand up and turn around”, he commanded.

Shakily, she did so. It amused and secretly thrilled her, to be talked to in this way. No hesitation. He knew exactly what he wanted.

He stood behind her and slowly brushed her dark hair away from her shoulders to reveal her bare skin. Then his fingers began tracing a meandering line up her back, until he reached her neck where he paused. She felt his fingers on the catch of her necklace.

“Don’t. I want to leave it on,” she said.

Hal chuckled but said nothing, and she couldn’t turn to read his expression. Nevertheless, his hands moved away, and she felt him skilfully unfastening her corselet. Once the hooks were undone, Hal slowly ran his hands down her sides. He ground his hips against hers, and she could feel his cock hardening through his trousers. She moved against him teasingly, eliciting a low moan from him as he grabbed her and pulled her tight against him. Eventually, he reached down to unclasp her black stockings.

Once he had done so, she pushed him back onto the bed, and swiftly pulled off her corselet, standing before him now only in her bra and knickers. He devoured her with his eyes as he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. She admired the lines of his hard, muscular body and reached down to touch him. With her fingers she traced the lines of his abs and down over his stomach. He was clearly aroused by this, and when she finally touched him through his trousers, he thrust against her involuntarily.

"You like that?’ she asked.

“Yes”, he murmured.

“Do you let your boy touch you like this?”

Hal’s eyes flashed angrily, and he clenched his jaw. “Don’t talk about him. Now, get on the bed”.

With a smirk, she did as he ordered. It was amusing to provoke him, but she wanted his lips on her again. As she lay down for him, she felt the smoothness of silk sheets against her skin. Such decadence was exotic to her after the modest life she had led. She had forgotten what it was like, being with him.

And then Hal was on top of her, and he took her wrists in his and pinned them above her head. Slowly, he placed a tender kiss on her lips which she returned eagerly, tasting the intoxicating blood on his tongue. Their breathing grew heavy, and she felt hot as blood rushed to the surface of her skin. As their kisses deepened, becoming wilder and hungrier, she felt his cock growing hard against her, and thrust against him with her hips.

He released her hands then, his own moving to stroke her breasts softly, almost leisurely, as if he had forgotten her transgression. Or perhaps pretending that he simply didn’t need this. But that was all part of the act, and she loved it, loved how he kissed her breasts, tongue just touching her nipple teasingly. And then she felt his teeth, and the feeling of his tongue melted into the sensation. Maddy closed her eyes as Hal took her nipple in his mouth and sucked and kissed her. The roughness of his stubble against her breasts was a foreign feeling, all the more arousing for its unfamiliarity. He moved down across her stomach, detouring to her hips before travelling further down to kiss the tender skin of her thighs.

Her hands were in his hair as she felt the hot wetness of his mouth on her cunt, his tongue teasing and licking her clit, sucking her lips as though she were a delicious pomegranate that had been split open for him. She moaned unrestrainedly, causing him to stop and look up at her.

“You’re so eager for me, aren’t you?” he whispered, “But before I fuck you, I’m going to taste you”

And then Hal bent his head and sank his teeth into her thigh. She cried out at the intensity of the pain. But then as Hal drank from her wildly, sucking her blood as though he would consume her completely, pleasure cascaded through her entire body and she heard the drumming of her blood flowing into him, joining with his own. She became aware that his fingers were inside her, coaxing her to climax, and then a wave of ecstasy swept through her and carried her away. Hal continued to drink, savouring the taste of pleasure in her blood, and as he held her and drank her, she felt herself tighten around his fingers and she was coming again and again. Nothing could be better than this, nothing, she thought. God save me, for I am truly damned.

Then the sensation disappeared as Hal pulled back, leaving her trembling.

“What…what’s wrong?”, she slurred.

He avoided her eyes as if he were ashamed. It was strange to see him so disconcerted, especially with his fangs extended and her blood dripping his mouth. For a moment, something passed over his face and he looked like someone else. And then it was gone.

He lay down next to her and nuzzled against her neck. Maddy realised then that he was still wearing trousers, so she unbuckled his belt and slipped them down over his hips. He kicked them to the floor and pulled his pants down, so that she could touch him.

Slowly, she sank down on top of him and put her hand to the blood still seeping from her thigh. It came away wet, and instinctively she put her hand on the head of his cock so that the fluid mixed with his precum. She stroked him like this, enjoying how he was spread before her with his fangs bared. Soon enough, he was moaning and whispering filthy things to her as she pleasured him.

She realized then what it was that she wanted and leaned down to kiss him. She tasted the intoxicating mixture of her own blood and juices on his tongue. And then she moved to his neck and bit down, and for the first time in fifty years she tasted him. His blood was cold, but so sweet and familiar to her. The dark power of it flowed into her as she drank him, hearing the drumming in her ears and savouring the sense that he was her prey, at her mercy, to do with as she pleased.

Then she pulled back from his neck and, straddling him, guided him inside her. She heard Hal gasp aloud as he entered her, and she moaned at the feeling of being so full with him. She began to move her hips slowly against him, enjoying how each motion sent a wave of pleasure coursing through her. As she increased her speed, he grabbed her hips, nails digging crescent moons into the flesh of her pale skin, bruising her.

She looked into his black eyes and sensed something stirring beneath the surface, something cruel and feral, but she bit down on his neck again to subdue him. She heard Hal growling, cursing her, crying out obscenities in his pleasure but it seemed to come from far away, so lost was she in the sensation. His nails were clawing at her back now, and she quickened her pace, breaking away again from his neck.

His eyes captivated her as they fucked, and the feeling of him filling her was almost too much. And then she felt herself coming again, and she felt him catch her and turn her over so that she lay on her back. With a growl, he entered her roughly, but she didn’t care. Hal was selfish now, and he thrust into her hard and fast, before sinking his teeth into her neck.

With a mad laugh, he tore off her necklace, scattering the pearls across the bed and onto the floor. Instinctively, she bit him on the shoulder and for an ecstatic moment they were both taking each other’s blood. And then she felt Hal come inside her, and he withdrew his fangs from her neck. She did the same and allowed him to move off her. He collapsed next to her and lay dazed on the bed, trying to catch his breath.

After a while, she sat up and reached for the cigarettes on the nightstand. She lit one with the silver lighter and walked over to the open glass doors that led out onto the balcony. It was late into the night now, and she could hear the cries of lost souls on the wind. Too many ghosts in this city.

She noticed that the wound on her thigh had already healed, though the one on her neck was still bleeding.

She saw something gleaming on the floor and bent down to pick it up. It was one of her pearls. The necklace that Clara had given her on Valentine’s day five years ago.

Bastard. He’d known it was special to her and that was why he’d destroyed it. She let it fall to the floor.

When she had finished smoking, she closed the door and walked back over to the bed. Hal was sprawled there amongst the tangled sheets stained with blood.

He was watching her now, though his eyes were half lidded with sleep.

“Come here.”

She walked over to him and he pulled her into his arms. Perhaps it was the right time for them because being here made her feel safe again. Contained, somehow. Like she wasn’t adrift in an endless ocean. So much was changing in the world, and yet he was still here. Or at least some version of him was.

As she was falling asleep, she felt him licking her neck, and sighed.

Somewhere out there, she could hear the sea.


	6. Chapter 6

Cutler stared at the brand-new leather suitcase that he had been given for the trip. Everything I own is in that suitcase, he thought. My whole bloody life. He didn’t feel good about it, not about Hal’s woman, not about leaving London, and certainly not about the lack of blood. His head still swam when he got up too fast, and the wound on his neck had only partially healed.

It was a scorching hot day today, record high temperatures and the bloody sun burned his eyes when he peeked behind the curtains. And yet, he found that he had to put a jumper on over his shirt just to feel warm enough.

Luckily, the worst of the day was now past, and they’d be setting off soon. At least, that’s what Fergus said. No one had seen Hal yet today, which was most unlike him. But Fergus had told him not to worry and gone back to day-drinking and in the parlour with Louis. He was beating the other man at cards, to no one’s surprise, and seemed irritated at Cutler’s interruption.

“We’ll be off soon, don’t worry about it. Hal gets like this sometimes, especially when his missus comes to town. Now bugger off, I’m busy.”

At that moment, Louis lay down a winning hand. Fergus stared at it for a few seconds, before knocking the table over and scattering the cards all over the floor.

“Goddamit, what are you looking at?” He demanded at the grinning Cutler. “I’ll wipe that smirk off your face, you little shit!”

Cutler ran up the stairs and barricaded himself in his room. Luckily, Fergus didn’t follow him.

He sank down onto his bed and dozed for a while. A few hours later, he woke as the sun was beginning to sink low in the sky. He looked out of the window and saw the cars parked outside. Dennis and Fergus were loading up the Bentley, while Louis was leaning against the other car smoking a cigarette.

But still no sign of Hal.

There was a knock on his door, and Cutler whirled around and ran over to it. He opened it to see the woman wearing a navy-blue dress and a red scarf fastened around her neck.

She smiled at him and said, “Hal told me to tell you that we’re leaving now. Are you packed?”

“Yes, of course.”

He frowned as she tugged at the scarf around her neck and caught a glimpse of saw the red bite mark beneath. Just like his own. _His missus_ , Fergus had said. Suddenly, he was filled with rage. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to destroy her. But God, he was so weak, so thirsty.

“Are you quite alright, Mr Cutler?”

He managed a smile which he was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Perfectly fine. I’ll come down now. There’s just a few more things…”

She nodded and retreated closing the door behind her.

*

Hal drove the Bentley while his men took the other car. As the car roared out into the night, Maddy sank back into the smooth leather of the passenger seat. It was still warm from the sun. She was tired from all the travelling and would have preferred to curl up in the back seat, but Hal had placed Cutler there along with the luggage. The young vampire did not look happy about this. Whenever she turned around, she caught him glaring at her, before quickly looking away.

Hal turned the radio on and took a silver flask from the glove compartment. He took a swig from it, before handing it over to Maddy. Blood mixed with whiskey to preserve it a little longer in the heat. It was a sour, but not entirely unpleasant.

As they drove off, Cutler watched the light fading over the roofs. There was a line of chimney pots against the sky and the streetlamps were coming on. Not that he needed them anymore to see in the dark. Hal was humming alone to something on the radio that sounded suspiciously like a showtune, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel in time to the beat. At least the man was in a good mood, otherwise Cutler would have been bloody tense the whole drive down to the coast.

Maddy saw the day-people in the street hurrying home. It was strange to think that they were going to sleep now. But that had been her, a few nights ago. She would have been turning off the lights and going upstairs to bed. As they passed a house, she caught a glimpse of a woman with long red hair standing in a lighted window. She was the spitting image of Clara! She had taken off her dress and was putting a nightgown on over her head. And then the light was turned out, and the woman disappeared.

A few policemen were standing together on the street corner. Cutler recognised one of them as Baxter and ducked down out of sight. They hadn’t paid the man for the favours he’d done them. Best they weren’t stopped now when they were making their escape. No, not an escape, he corrected himself. A holiday. One that could open up new opportunities for them. A business trip. Yes, that’s what it was. Hal had been vague about their plans, and Cutler was damned if he knew what his maker was thinking. He wondered if Hal actually had a plan, or if he was just being carried along on a whim. The idea of the latter unsettled him. He didn’t like it when Hal behaved unpredictably. It was dangerous for all of them.

Maddy’s new shoes pinched, so she took them off and discarded them under the seat. She realised that she was tired from all this travelling around the country, and she hadn’t had much sleep last night. But every time she closed her eyes, she’d see things that she didn’t want to remember. She would need blood, and a lot of it, to keep the nightmares at bay. But it could wait, the thirst was not so bad yet. She took a sip from the flask.

Cutler watched the woman take a drink and swallowed. His throat was dry and scratchy, and he wanted it desperately. He’d feel so much better, if only he could have a little blood. Of course, Hal was completely oblivious to his suffering, and his eyes were fixed on the road ahead. Just a sip would do. Just one drop…

Maddy touched her neck and found a scarf there instead of her necklace. She remembered that the pearl’s lay scattered across the bedroom floor. But there was no use missing it now. What good was it anyway, to hold onto relics of the past? She lit a cigarette and drew on it, feeling the slow rush of nicotine infusing her blood. It woke her up a little, and she opened the window to let the smoke blow away into the sky.

*

They stopped at a rest stop twenty miles from the coast. Hal went to fill up the car, leaving the two of them alone together. After a moment, Cutler opened the door as if to follow his maker.

“Wait”, Maddy hissed.

“What? Why?”

“I need to speak with you.”

He closed the door again with a confused look on his face. Maddy noticed that he was wearing a wool sweater, despite how warm the night was.

“You’re freezing, aren’t you?” she asked.

“No, not freezing” , he said defensively, “A little cold, perhaps. What’s it to you?”

Oh Hal, what are you doing to this child? she thought. She looked out the window and saw that he was going into the garage to pay.

“Look, I can see that you’re shaking. It’s plain to me that you’re in need of blood, so here”, she offered him the flask in her hand, “Take this”.

His eyes were wide, and she saw him lick his lips.

“I…I can’t”, he stammered.

“Just take it. He won’t know.”

The man shook his head.

“No. He will, he’ll be able to tell.”

“He won’t, not if you only drink a little. The blood is cold, and he’s been drinking it himself. Trust me, Cutler. You know you need it”

The man was on the edge, she knew. He looked out the window to check on Hal, but he was still inside.

With a shaking hand, Cutler reached forward to take the flask. It seemed almost too good to be true. But why was she offering it to him? He was no one to her, she owed him nothing. Was it a trick to betray him to Hal? But he heard the blood sloshing in the flask and realised that he didn’t care.

He snatched it from her hand and took a big gulp of the sour liquid. As soon as it hit his tongue, the blood kick in the booze ignited his thirst, and before he knew it he was tipping the flask up to reach the dregs before she pulled it from his hand.

The boy really had a thirst, she thought. The drink was just supposed to be something to keep them going on the road. He obviously needed to feed properly, and that was more than the thin, tepid mixture could offer. She screwed the top back on and stashed the flask in the glove compartment.

Cutler felt the booze and blood combination working on his body. His head had stopped aching almost immediately and warmth was slowly returning to his limbs as if he’d slipped into a warm bath. He wanted to sink down back into the seat and luxuriate in the feeling, but his suspicions flared again when he looked at the woman.

“Why…why did you give me that?” he asked.

“Because you needed it. Now tell me, why isn’t Hal allowing you to have blood?”

Cutler chuckled mirthlessly. “It’s a long story.”

“Shorten it.”

He swallowed. “I…I can’t kill. I don’t have the stomach for it. Every time I try, I mess it up. It’s my fault that we’re leaving London.”

She looked at him and thought about this for a moment. He was young and weak, but it wasn’t exactly pity that he evoked in her so much as a sense of compassion. She remembered the first time she had told her maker no more, that she couldn’t do it, couldn’t kill another person. He’d said nothing in response, and had simply taken her from the great house and locked her in the dungeon. After a few weeks, she'd eaten all the rats. After a few months, she'd gotten used to the damp, and the smell of her own piss and shit. Even the thirst had abated, eventually. But when it did, things had gotten so much worse because that was when she began to remember. Their faces, she could see all of them, everyone she’d ever killed, and she remembered the smell of their hair, the taste of sunlight on their skin. The way they begged and pleaded with her, “No, miss, please, please god, I’ll do anything, why are you doing this to me? Please, spare my children, my babes, please!”

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed down there, but when he eventually dragged her up out of the darkness and brought her a human, a servant maid probably, she hadn’t hesitated. Anything to make the voices stop. And they had, for a time.

“It’s not your fault we’re leaving, that’s for certain,” she said. “You don’t have the power to influence his decisions. Hal has his own reasons for going to Brighton. But I understand why he’s angry with you. This Hal would see not being able to kill as a weakness, a failure to follow your natural instincts. But that’s a lie, Cutler. There’s nothing natural about us.”

Cutler had so many questions but settled for, “What do you mean, ‘this Hal’?”

She smiled ruefully. “He wasn’t always the cruel and bloodthirsty man that you know now. Sometimes he was kind.”

That information seemed an impossibility to Cutler. It was as if she’d told him that the sun shone at night.

Hal opened the door to the car and sat down in the driver’s seat.

“So, you gave him blood," he said after a moment.

Maddy frowned, feigning innocence. “Was I not supposed to?”

But he saw right through her, and something dangerous glinted in his eyes as he said, “He’s my recruit. What gives you the right to interfere?”

She said nothing, aware that she’d broken the rules. Etiquette, courtesy, _protocol_. The code by which the old ones lived. Hal was right, he had the authority here, and Cutler belonged to him.

Hal was staring at her as if considering what to do with her, but she wasn’t concerned. There were no stakes, either literally or figuratively. Maddy noticed that there was a smear of fresh his on his lips. She smelt the delicious scent on his handkerchief too, which told her that he’d clearly wiped his mouth with it after leaving the shop. It probably belonged to the cashier. She wasn’t worried about witnesses, the only other car at the petrol station belonged to Fergus, but she was concerned about what he’d done with the body.

Hal smiled wickedly, watching as she made the connection.

“It’s in the trunk.”

She shook her head at him, “You couldn’t have waited until we arrived?”

“Excuse me, what’s in the trunk?” Cutler interrupted.

“Never you mind” Hal snapped.

Maddy sighed and turned around to face him. “A body. There’s a body in the trunk.”

“Christ…is there any blood left?”

Hal shot daggers at him, and Cutler sank even lower in his seat.

There was a tense silence for a moment before Hal burst out laughing. Cutler was shocked and laughed along nervously.

“The look on your face!” Hal jeered.

Maddy rolled her eyes and lit another cigarette.

Cutler breathed a sigh of relief as Hal restarted the engine. He turned the radio up and resumed humming along to his tunes. It was strange. It was as if his maker no longer cared that he had drunk blood without his permission. Or perhaps Hal was just riding a blood high, and would punish him for it later. The thought of being punished sent shivers of fear and, he admitted to himself, desire running through him. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It really was quite confusing.

Were they just going to take the body with them into the city? Maddy thought. Oh, but there was nothing else for it now. Isabella surely had people to take care of these things, but it really was bad form to bring a body with them as if it were luggage.

She looked around at Cutler, who blushed and turned away from her. As the miles disappeared behind them, she caught the scent of the ocean and, realising that she was falling into sleep, allowed herself to drift down into the darkness.

The sky was blue and a girl with dark hair ran barefoot down the dirt road to the beach. As the fresh salt wind tangled her hair, she saw her mother was waiting on the beach, picking cockles in the rock pools. She could see her standing, waving, waiting for her to come…

The tide washed in and washed out. It was getting dark now.

She saw something black fly overhead. The crow landed at her feet, eyeing her mockingly.

“Love,” it cawed, it’s voice harsh and metallic. “Love, love.”

It pecked at her bare feet, piercing her skin and making her bleed onto the stones. She scrambled back to get away from it, but she felt a searing pain in her neck and looked up to see ash was falling from the sky. Then she was falling, and she felt herself collapse onto the carpet. A vase of flowers had fallen in the kitchen, she could see the stems lying in a puddle of water amidst shattered glass. She could see it falling now, the table being knocked over…

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the thing lying limply on the floor. The crow was pecking at its eyes. She tried to scream, but she was coughing up blood, blood spilling down her front, onto the floor, the entire house was washing away in a sea of it. From somewhere far off she heard Hetty’s girlish voice singing that old song she’d loved to taunt her with:

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying.

And this same flower that smiles today,

To-morrow will be dying”

She felt the wind on her face and found herself rising into wakefulness. It was a clear night, and the bright moon was waning. As they drove over the hill, where once there had been darkness now there was light. The town was spread out before them, shining like the stars had fallen to earth. She heard the sound of the ocean, and smelt salt on the wind.

Why had she agreed to come here, of all places?

“You’re awake,” Hal said, looking over at her. “Good. We’re nearly there.”

As the car glided past new white houses that looked so very like those in London, she sat upright and began arranging her curls. Then she reapplied red lipstick and put on her shoes. In the back, Cutler was fussing with his tie, but Hal, as immaculate as ever, didn’t so much as smooth his hair.

Then the car was turning along the seafront, and soon they pulled up outside a hotel. Hal opened the door for her and she stepped out onto a strip of brilliantly lit pavement. She watched humans getting out of cars around her, and stood amazed at how they swept through the doors with a retinue of porters trailing behind them. Surely, this was the dream. These lights, these people, the bustling, oblivious life that surrounded her.

She turned to see Hal talking to Fergus, who had parked next to them.

Cutler was pulling the bags out of the back and dropped one onto the pavement. It sprung open, and for a moment she saw stacks of thickly bound bank notes before he hastily snapped the lid shut.

It was lucky that he hadn’t opened the boot, she thought.


	7. Chapter 7

The roses were placed in a glass vase on the table.

As Maddy was stirring from sleep, she felt Clara’s lips brush her ear and felt a delicious shiver run over her skin.

“Mmm it’s too early. Let me sleep.”

Clara had brought the roses in from the garden, Maddy remembered. They were pink petalled and smelt of summer.

Clara smiled, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I’m going to go and work in the studio.”

“No, stay. Please.”

Maddy’s lips were in her hair, on her neck, her fingers drawing her back.

“Ok, but just for a moment. I’ve already lit the kiln” her lover laughed.

“Just for a moment.”

Maddy saw the vase falling.

*

The sound of gulls squalling overhead woke her with a start. It was just past sunrise, and the wind from the sea carried the bitter smell of salt and brine. She shivered from the cold and realised that the covers had fallen from the bed. But it was summer, and the air was already warm so evidently that wasn’t the real reason for the chill. She felt the thirst rising in her like a wave.

She looked enviously at Hal lying asleep next to her. He was sleeping off the blood and didn’t even stir when she brushed the hair from his forehead. With a sigh, she rose and walked into the clean gleaming white of the ensuite bathroom. She turned the shower on and allowed the water to fall over her, its warmth washing away the dirt. The smeared blood on her neck and arms from her bites diluted into faint rivulets that flowed from her body. The reddened water swirled away down the drain.

But still, her flesh felt shivery and she was cold inside as though she had just swallowed a pitcher of ice water. They refrigerate their dead now, she thought. No blood, no flies, no messy decomposition. Bodies cooled in freezer drawers, kept frosty for their next of kin. She could pass for one of them, if not for the the all-consuming thirst inside of her.

She heard Hal open the door and felt him step in behind her. His hands were on her hips, encircling her stomach.

“Good morning”, he said.

“Is it?” Maddy asked.

He moved her wet hair away from her neck and kissed her.

“Most certainly”

She felt his hardness pressing against her and stiffened.

“Hal, I need to feed.”

He sighed, pulled away from her and stepped out of the shower. She watched him as he took his took his razor from beside the sink. In one swift motion, he drew it across his chest. She bit her lip as she watched the dark blood seeping from the cut. Then she grabbed him, pulled him to her eagerly and drank. It was cold, but it had something of life in it and she drew it into her desperately. As she fed from him, sucking at his chest, Hal’s breathing grew ragged and when she looked up his eyes were dark and flickering with a kind of wildness.

“You’re so _desperate_ , it’s quite unlike you.” He laughed.

She pulled away from him, “Please don’t, it’s embarrassing.”

Hal smiled mischievously, “How long were you ‘on the wagon’, as they say?”

She hesitated, her mind numb with the icy haze of his blood. “I…I don’t know.”

“You’re lying. We always know.”

Maddy sighed. “Thirty years, give or take.”

He raised his eyebrows. “All that time and no slip ups? Impressive.”

She shrugged, “What does it matter now?”

“Nothing matters”, he said, planting a kiss on her lips. “Not a moment of it”, he kissed down her neck, and she shivered, though there was warmth spreading over her skin from his caresses. “I want you to forget it everything, all of it. It will be as if it never happened.”

“Hal.”

“What now?”

“I…I am really thirsty. I need to feed. Properly, I mean.”

He laughed again, but his eyes were cold. He was enjoying her discomfort, but at the same time she could see that he loathed this weakness in her.

“Wait until this evening. We’re going to visit Isabella.”

“Ah, I see. There will be tribute. Well in that case, I suppose I can wait a little longer.”

Hal kissed her again.

“I must say, you look as ravishing as ever.”

“Save the flattery for your prey. Why not just say that you want me?”

Hal was a little taken aback by this, though he tried not to show it.

“I…want you. Are you happy now?”

She smiled.

“Perhaps.”

*

Cutler was awoken by the roar of traffic. Motorcars rushed past along the King’s Way, blaring their horns for all the world to hear. It was almost as bad as being back in London. He’d been so tired the night before, he’d had forgotten to close the French blinds and the streams of sunlight coming in were searing his eyes. He groaned and buried his head under the pillow. At least the bed was king size and the duvet luxuriously soft. He could order room service and stay in bed all day, if he so desired. Hal had officially given them the day off, with the caveat that they not kill anyone or otherwise make a mess.

Well, that wouldn’t be a problem for Cutler. Ever since that woman Madeleine had given him blood from the flask, he’d been feeling pretty damn good. His bruises and bites had all but healed, and even his thirst had ebbed a little. For the first time in a month, he could almost think straight.

And then the door opened, and Fergus and Louis burst in.

“Wakey wakey, sunshine!” Fergus jeered.

Cutler groaned. “Oh no. Please. Can’t you let me have a day to myself for once?”

“We’re on holiday, can’t have you moping around in bed.”

“I’m not moping, I’m sleeping.”

He held onto the covers, but Fergus yanked them off him.

“Chop chop, up you get now.”

“We’re going to the amusements,” Louis grinned.

“But I haven’t even had breakfast!”

“We’ll get some liver and chips later.”

Cutler huffed in annoyance. “Alright, fine. Can you at least let me get dressed?”

While the other the two vampires waited outside, Cutler hastily washed his face with a flannel and tried to comb his curly hair into something resembling neatness. The sea air wasn’t doing him any favours. Then he opened his suitcase and put on a blue checked shirt and a pair of shorts. He would look ghastly pale in the sunlight, but then again this was a British holiday resort so he wouldn’t be too out of place.

He snatched his sunglasses from the dressing table and went out the door.

Fergus and Louis were leaning against the wall in the corridor smoking.

“Where’s Dennis?”

“He’s gone to see a man about a dog.” Louis said.

“Oh really? I thought we were getting out of the fight business.”

“Maybe, maybe not” replied Fergus. “Hal likes to have options.” 

Cutler heard the sound of a woman moaning from the room behind him. Hal’s room.

“Is that...?”

Fergus clapped him on the back. “Never you mind, kid. We’re on holiday, let’s go have some fun.”

Fun? Cutler thought. He supposed he could at least give it a go. He’d been completely side-lined since Hal’s ‘missus’ had come to town. Not that he was complaining, no. It was better this way. He might even see about getting a date later now that Hal seemed to have lost interest in him.


	8. Chapter 8

Cutler had been following the two idiots around all morning, and already he was bored to tears. He’d much rather have stayed inside in the shade with an electric fan and a good book, but they’d insisted on dragging him to the arcade where Fergus had promptly lost all his money on the slots and then punched the machine. It still didn’t give him his money back, though. “Useless piece of crap,” Fergus muttered, before storming off angrily.

Then they’d forced him to walk with them along the prom to gawp at all the tanned girls in swimsuits. There certainly was a lot of flesh on display, Cutler thought, but he couldn’t really appreciate the sight because of the blazing sun beating down overhead. Somehow the other two didn’t seem to mind it, probably because between them they were regularly downing enough blood to keep the NHS afloat for a month.

“I swear they never used to show this much skin before the war” Louis said, ogling one in white who was clearly styling herself after Marilyn Monroe.

Cutler scoffed, “Whatever you say. I was just a kid when the war started.”

“You’re still just a kid,” Fergus responded.

Cutler ignored this and peered closer at the woman’s neck. “Who wears pearls to the beach, anyway?”

“Clearly fancies herself all that”, Louis said. “Here, what about her?” he pointed at a curly-haired girl with large breasts.

Cutler shrugged. “Not really my type.”

“None of them are your type, are they Cutler?”, Fergus smirked.

Louis sniggered and turned away.

“No…that’s not” Cutler said, looking around anxiously. “Look…it’s the sun. I’ve got a headache and I’m bloody sunburnt, alright?”

“Bet you’ve got a thirst to go with it too, eh lobster boy?” Fergus grinned.

Cutler’s face fell, “Oh god, is it really that bad?”

“I’d say take a look in the mirror, but well…”

He looked down at his arms which had turned a deep pink. He was suffering, and the other two were making jokes. He seethed silently as he followed them past the rows of sleeping holidaymakers in deckchairs and couldn’t help but notice that his mouth was salivating.

He’d managed to get a bit of shade under the awning at tourist information while Fergus chatted to one of the promette girls. Bloody typical. The man always had a thing for girls in uniform. While she blushed, and wisely declined his offer of a drink and a bite to eat, Louis had gone into one of the kiosks selling postcards, arcade coupons, sticks of rock and other seaside tat. He’d come back with a joke book of all things, and now the big vampire was reading aloud slowly and deliberately as they walked along.

“I’ll never forget my Grandad’s last words to me before he died: are you still holding the ladder?” The man erupted into guffaws of laughter, and when neither of the others did, he just carried on reeling them off as if he was a regular Charlie Chester.

It was getting to the point where Cutler was about to snatch the book and throwing it into the sea (or better yet, cram it down Louis’ throat), when thankfully Fergus decided that they should get out of the sun. They headed into the shade of the lanes and went into a small café located up a flight of stairs. It was quiet, except for a few old people and a group of pretty girls chatting and eating lunch. They took a table away from the windows and ordered some food.

After a while, Cutler realized that the girls were looking over and smiling flirtatiously. It was nice to be noticed, he thought. Especially when he knew that they weren’t only interested because of Hal. He caught the eye of one girl with silky brown hair, who turned away blushing and whispered to the blonde sitting next to her. Suddenly he felt self conscious, and worried that they were laughing at his sunburn.

Louis grinned, “They seem much friendlier down here than the ones in London.”

“I reckon it’s the sea air”, said Fergus. “Puts them in the mood for holiday romance”. He winked at Cutler, “Or a cheeky shag in a back alley.”

Cutler made a disgusted noise. “You’re a pig, Fergus.”

The older vampire shrugged. “At least I know what I want. Unlike some I could mention.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his tea. “How’s your thirst treating you?”

“Horrendous, thanks for asking.”

Louis put his hands behind his head and frowned. “I don’t get it. Why do you put yourself through all that?”

“Yeah, I mean bloody hell, it’s not that hard,” said Fergus. “Just come out with us and we’ll show you how it’s done.”

“I’ve tried, you know I have,” Cutler said lowering his voice to a whisper, “But _killing_ is harder than it looks.”

Fergus smiled conspiratorially. “Ah but once you’ve done it, that’s it. You can do anything. Kill anyone, drink anyone, be anyone. You can take all the girls you want and fuck them as you rip open their pretty necks. You’re a king! No, better than that: you’re one of us.”

“You sound like Hal”, Cutler muttered, glaring at him across the table.

Fergus smirked, as if the other man had just given him a compliment.

The waitress arrived with their food and set it down in front of them. “Can I get anything else for you, gents?”

She seemed oblivious to the three pairs of hungry eyes that travelled over her, and for a moment Cutler was sure that Louis was going to leap out of his chair and grab her.

“We’re fine, thank you.” Cutler said stiffly.

“Enjoy, then”, the woman said and turned away.

“Damn, you’ve given me a right thirst now with that speech” said Louis, watching as the woman disappeared back into the kitchen.

Fergus cleared his throat and turned away, “Yeah, well. Just eat your dinner and keep your fangs to yourself until tonight, Lord Hal’s orders.”

They ate in silence for a moment before Cutler asked, straining for a casual tone, “Have either of you got any blood?”

“Not too good for us now, is he?”, Fergus grinned.

“Please.”

“Haven’t got any", the man admitted. "What? don't look at me like that. It doesn’t keep long in this heat and we haven’t had a fresh kill since London.”

“What about the body in the trunk?”

“Gone. Me and Dennis drove out to the woods last night after we checked in.” He clapped Cutler on the shoulder, “Cheer up kid, you’ll get something tonight. Unless…”

“What?”

Louis nudged Cutler, indicating the brunette at the other table. “That one’s giving you the eye.”

“Hal said no killing”, Cutler whispered surreptitiously.

“Yeah, but that was for the rest of us” said Fergus. I’m sure he’d make an exception for you if you managed to go through with it. You know what? I bet he’d even be proud of you.”

“Just finish the job this time, otherwise there’ll be hell to pay.” Louis said with a grin, cracking his knuckles.

Cutler licked his lips nervously. The thought of blood was more than tempting, but what if he messed up again? Worse than that, what if he actually managed to go through with it?

“I’m…not in the mood” he said, lowering his gaze. “I think I’m just going to head back to the hotel.”

Fergus shrugged, “Suit yourself, we’re heading down to the pool hall.”

“I hope you stake each other over a bet,” Cutler grumbled.

When they’d finished eating and were leaving the café, Louis whispered to Fergus. “Oy, check this out”. He took out his joke book and recited, “Even people who are good for nothing can bring a smile to your face”

“What? Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Cutler shouted as Louis advanced towards him and pushed him. He felt the air go out of his chest, stumbled backwards, lost his footing and fell all the way down the flight of stairs.

“For instance, when you push them down the stairs”.

“Bloody hilarious”, Cutler wheezed, as the two vampires looked down on him and nearly collapsed with laughter.

*

The heatwave had broken as night set in, and the sky opened up. Rain was blowing in from the churning sea and pelting down overhead. And yet it was still warm, and Cutler found himself overheating in his raincoat. 

“This weather puts me in mind of monsoon season in Siam.” Hal said, looking up at the sky.

“It’s always like this when it rains here in the summer,” Maddy replied.

Hal turned to look her sceptically, “And you remember that, do you?”

She said nothing, looking distant as she pulled her coat around herself.

They turned down a side street and Cutler found himself standing in front of a building that was seemingly indistinguishable from the other 19th century buildings that surrounded it.

“Is this it?”, Cutler whispered to Fergus.

Fergus rolled his eyes, “Appearances can be deceiving. I mean, look at you. Anyone would think you were just a useless twat…oh wait, never mind.”

“Gentleman” Maddy said turning to face them, “Would you kindly shut up?”

“Yes m’lady”, they mumbled.

Instead of knocking at the front door, Dennis descended the basement stairs and rapped on a red door with a plaque next to it that read ‘The Crimson Venus’. The peephole slid open and behind a mesh a pair of black eyes looked out at them. Then it slid shut, and the door swung open. The man standing behind it was bald and built like a brick shithouse, but despite that he was neatly dressed in a black suit and had an air of deliberate courtesy about him. He was more of a lifelong guard than a hired goon and had clearly been doing this for several lifetimes now. He bowed ceremoniously to them and Cutler knew that it wasn’t for his benefit, so much as it was for the two Old Ones.

“How’s it going, Dave?” Dennis asked by way of greeting.

“Busy night, can’t complain. Humans tip better, like to show off to their missus.

“Mistresses more like.” Fergus smirked. “Not exactly the kind of place you’d bring your wife.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Not my place to judge, I’m just the doorman.” he inclined his head to Hal. “The boss is expecting you.”

“Please, lead the way.”

The man ushered them into the darkness. Cutler’s ears were immediately overwhelmed by the sound of voices, and the screech of a jazz band playing. The room was pressed with people dancing in front of the stage, though some were seated at tables or in booths. From the humid heat of the bodies and the pounding of hearts beats, he could tell that most of them were human. Though, he could sense that there were more than a few vampires in the room. He was glad that they'd brought stakes with them, in case of trouble.

Dave the doorman led them to a booth that had been roped off, before disappearing into a back room. Hal and Maddy sat alongside Fergus and Cutler, while Louis and Dennis stood guard. A decanter of blood was placed on the table, and Hal poured out six small glasses. He sniffed the contents of his own, before raising it to his lips with the air of a connoisseur. Cutler watched intently as his maker pushed one of the glasses towards him.

Well, he wasn’t going to say no to blood if it was being offered to him. He resisted the urge to down it in one, instead sipping an excruciatingly small amount and setting the glass back down with huge effort. He inhaled the smell of smoke, sweat and spirits in the air, and as the musicians improvised on their instruments, they set a swinging rhythm which was unlike anything he had ever heard and felt his foot begin to tap unconsciously.

Maddy watched the men and women dancing together in fine clothes, bodies pressed together. Pomade slicked hair, loosened silk ties, gold earrings, perfumed sweat staining velvet. Dangerous men came to this club and brought expensive women with them- or bought them from within the hazy smoke with offers too generous to refuse. And indeed, she saw these women winding between the tables confidently, before being plucked and led upstairs.

This is their world, she thought. Their faces are painted to perfection, their dresses shimmer in the light of the stage like exotic fish swimming through the dark sea. I am hidden from their gaze, yet I know how to walk in their shoes, how to charm men such as these for coin.

She felt her hand trembling as she raised the glass to her lips. Instead of slaking her thirst, the blood ignited it, and she felt her throat burning for more. But she hesitated as she felt the eyes of unknown vampires flickering over her like pin pricks on her skin. If only she had fed before coming here, she had said as much to Hal this morning. Surely, they could all see it on her. How weak she was, how much she needed to kill. And then she felt his cool hand fell on hers, and her mind stopped spinning.

The band came to the end of the song, and the dancers reeled to a halt to applaud their efforts. Cutler felt himself turn to see a voluptuous woman with long brown hair curled about her shoulders swaying over to them. She was wearing a red dress that accentuated her figure and on her lips was a dangerous smile which seemed to catch Cutler up and pull him to her. Fergus nudged him, and he realised that he closed his mouth which had fallen open.

“Isabella, it’s been to long” Hal said, bowing his head to kiss her gloved hand.

“My Lord” she purred, inclining her head before turning to Maddy. “My Lady.” She kissed her on both her cheeks, before kissing her on the lips.

“Cutler, Fergus, move so that our host can sit down”

“Of course, m’lord," Fergus said, standing up and bowing so low to that his head almost brushed his knee. Cutler stumbled to his feet after him, and heard him mutter “Every bloody time...”

Hal took another sip from his glass. “This blood is excellent, but of course I expected no less of your hospitality”.

Isabella smiled beguilingly, “We do aim to please, my lord. It is my privilege to welcome you to Brighton, and I am told that AB negative is a rare vintage.”

“Indeed. Most exquisite.”

Something about this exchange seemed strange to Cutler, but he was lost in a fog of desire and his brain seemed to have turned to mush. He watched as his maker pulled a packet of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offered one to the woman. As she accepted, and allowed him to light it for her, he became aware that he was seething with jealousy.

“The last time I saw you was in Seville,” Madeline said, “Sixty years ago now if I recall correctly?”

“Fifty-three” Isabella said, not impolitely. “I count the years more precisely than you vampires”

“Of course. Though you don’t look a day older than you did then.”

Isabella smiled flirtatiously, “Oh, you do know what a girl likes to hear.”

Maddy inclined her head. “It was merely an observation.”

“No, you never were one for flattery, if I recall.”

“I’m too old for it, it just rings false to me.”

She became aware of the woman’s heat pressed against her, so warm against her cold body. She was practically overflowing with life, and desirable in a way that had nothing to do with blood.

Isabella drew on her cigarette and exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“That’s what I’ve always found so appealing about you”, she said. “Your sincerity is like a breath of fresh air.” She looked sideways at Maddy, “And if you don’t mind me saying, you are lovely as I remember.”

The woman was stroking her arm with her gloved hand now, albeit hesitantly. Of course, she wouldn’t try to use her powers on her, or Hal for that matter. He would sooner tear Isabella’s spine out through her mouth than be made a fool of, and she knew it. And as for herself, the woman’s hypnotic charms had never greatly affected her. She could feel the power swirling around her, but it had as much pull as small waves lapping at the shore.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to move away and something about the way she was touching her so softly and desirously, was deeply arousing. She thought for a moment of Clara, but she had sworn not to think about her anymore. She must try to forget her. Well, perhaps this was how she could forget. Maddy took the glass in front of her and drained it dry.

The band started up again, and the dancers came to life once more. But Cutler couldn’t tear his eyes away from Isabella. Every gesture she made absolutely fascinated him. He wished that she would look at him, if only for a moment. Just to be noticed by her would be enough, and he could die happy. Well, die again. If she would let him.

He yelped as Hal kicked him under the table, and startled him from his fantasy.

Seemingly unaware of this, Isabella said, “The last old one who visited us here was Herrick, I believe.”

Hal tutted. “Herrick’s nothing but an arrogant upstart. He’s only an ‘Old One’ because of his maker.

“I disagree” Maddy said. “Hetty may have made him, and while he certainly has her petulant egotism, he has a formidable reputation for a vampire his age.” She hesitated a little before saying, “Snow was interested in him, at any rate.”

“Don’t speak of him to me,” Hal said sharply.

“No, you’re right. Of course.” 

Isabella looked from one to the other intently, before changing the subject. “I hear that Herrick prefers to conduct his own affairs in Bristol.”

“With John by his side, they make quite the team”, Hal scoffed.

Maddy frowned, “Who?”

“John Mitchell”, Hal said. “He’s new, but he has already made a name for himself." Hal shot a disappointed look at Cutler. “Unlike some I could mention”.

Cutler blushed red, fuming silently. He could kill Hal for humiliating him like that in front of Isabella! If she kept talking to Hal, she would never notice him, never see his potential. And he knew just by looking upon her beauty that he could be a great man, a history maker. Well, he would show her, show all of them his devotion. Before he knew it, his hand was inside his coat reaching for a stake, and was about to draw it when Fergus grabbed his hand and pinned it to his side. 

Madeleine had seen the sudden movement and realised what was happening. “Fergus, why don’t you take Cutler and go and get Isabella a drink from the bar?” she suggested.

Her voice seemed to ring crystal clear through Cutler’s sudden, murderous rage. Of course! He’d get Isabella a drink, and then she’d see him for the man he truly was. Christ, what a relief! He almost laughed aloud at how silly he’d been not to have thought of it before.

Louis and Dennis moved aside as Fergus practically dragged Cutler away from the table.

“I must say, you’re having quite the effect on the poor boy” Hal said, with barely suppressed irritation. “Is there some way you could…” he searched for the right words, “lessen your influence?”

“Of course my lord, my sincerest apologies. Sometimes it can take people like that.” She laughed, her lips wide and red and perfect. “And I haven’t so much as touched him!”

Maddy looked at her. As always, she was showing off. Savouring her power like a cat lapping at a bowl of cream. She was one of the most powerful succubi that Maddy had ever come across, and she knew it. So confidant was the woman that she had taken control of the city’s vampire coven and had held it in her painted talons since the Great War. Much of Brighton’s regeneration was thanks to her efforts. In return, the police and local authorities had adopted a laissez-fair attitude to the city’s supernatural population, as well as the darker side of their activities.

“Thank you.” Hal said, courteously but with a certain coldness that hinted at his displeasure. “It would be greatly appreciated it. I’d prefer not to deal with any…unfortunate incidents this evening”

Maddy saw Isabella swallow nervously. For all her power, she was afraid. And that could prove dangerous if they were not careful. They would have to keep a close watch on her.

Over at the bar, Cutler was horrified. He hadn’t asked Isabella what she wanted to drink! He should go back over and ask her, Fergus be damned. But the other man was clenching his arm almost hard enough to break it. But that wouldn’t stop him for long…

“Cutler? Do you hear me?”

“Yes, I hear you. Now let me go!”

But Fergus refused to relinquish his grip.

“Look lad, she’s a succubus. She’s got you under her influence”.

“What? How dare you say that about her! Now let me go, I love her!”

“She didn’t touch you, so just give it a minute and you’ll be fine.”

“Oh my god! You want her for yourself don’t you, you dirty bastard!”

Fergus sighed, and signalled to the vampire behind the bar for two drinks.

“I’m not letting you go, so just relax kid”.

“I have to go to her! I’ll kill you if you don’t let me go!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

The barman set two whiskeys on the bar. Fergus thanked him and took a sip of one whilst maintaining his grip on Cutler who has trying to fight against him.

“First time?” the bartender asked, gesturing at Cutler.

“Yeah, he’s new.”

“That explains it then.”

“Does it?” Fergus grunted, “I thought he was just an idiot.”

Cutler watched the whiskey sloshing in the glass, and he peered suspiciously at the bartender. Was he trying to keep him from Isabella too? The man was handsome and wore a bowtie, and that was suspicious enough. His apron was flecked with lime juice, and Cutler could plainly see that beneath his shirt he was lean and well-muscled. He watched as the man crushed mint leaves and sloshed ice into a cocktail shaker.

He realized that he had stopped struggling against Fergus, and suddenly a wave of embarrassment washed over him as he realised what had just happened.

“Oh.”

Fergus looked him over. “You calmed down yet?”

Cutler grabbed the glass of whiskey on the bar and downed it in one. “That was bloody horrible, I never want to feel that way again.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. My advice? Steer well clear. Hal shouldn’t have brought you tonight, but he thought there was a chance you’d be fine. Now I think of it, probably best steer clear of Hal too, if you can. He’ll be disappointed.”

Over at the table, Isabella was brandishing a smile at Hal. “I hope that you’ll enjoy spending time in our little town. Do you have any plans for how long your holiday will last?”

She’s wondering how long she’ll have to put up with us, Maddy thought. Having Old Ones in town was always a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it could mean power, rewards, friends in high places. On the other, we’re a violent, temperamental bunch given to the worst excesses. And there’s no guarantee that Hal won’t simply take everything you’ve built for himself. And then there was the fact that Isabella wasn’t even a vampire. Snow for one certainly wouldn’t have liked ‘the aesthetic’.

She realised that Hal certainly wasn’t putting her at ease, and although polite he was being rather standoffish.

“No plans, as yet” he said coolly. “Suffice it to say, we may be here at least until the end of the summer.”

Isabella’s expression faltered slightly, before recovering. “Good. Then we’ll all have sufficient time to enjoy one another’s company.”

“Indeed,” he said.

“Well, if there is anything you require, do let me know” she purred.

Hal smiled charmingly, “I shall not hesitate.”

A waitress came over and whispered something in Isabella’s ear.

“Ah, I see.” She smiled. “As is customary, I have arranged a tribute. If you would be so kind as to follow me?”

Thank god, Maddy thought. It was about time. She hoped that Isabella hadn’t noticed how shaky she was, but she didn’t put anything past the woman. She felt Hal take her by the hand and lead her from the room after the succubus.


	9. Chapter 9

Cutler sat alone at the bar sullenly nursing a Tom Collins. Fergus had said that he’d be damned if he was going to be stuck babysitting all night and disappeared upstairs with one of the girls in shiny dresses. The girls would come to the bar every so often and pick up trays of drinks with their long, manicured nails before disappearing into the darkness. None of them gave the messy haired, sunburnt young man a second glance, which was fine by him.

He finished his drink and signalled for the bartender to pour him another, deciding to get well and truly drunk. As the band finished another song, the club broke out into applause and Cutler caught the sweet, intoxicating scent of blood on the air. He looked around and saw that next to the toilets, there was a man pressing a woman up against the wall. She looked like she was enjoying herself, but a second later Cutler saw blood running down her neck. Before she could scream, the bouncers had pulled him off, and Cutler heard one hiss, “Take it somewhere else.” Eyes in the darkness flickered over the man contemptuously, already bored by the display.

Cutler became aware that the bartender had said something to him and turned around.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Should have taken her upstairs,” the man repeated.

“Oh, right.”

The panicked woman had been ushered away by the club girls- waitresses, prostitutes, whatever they were- and Cutler knew that no one would ever see that woman again.

“We have a way of doing things here,” the man said, with a smile. Cutler realised that he had an American accent, and that intrigued him. He’d always wanted to visit the states, and now maybe he would. This new life did have its perks, after all. Although, he wasn’t sure how the older vampires dealt with passports. You couldn’t exactly use an oil painting as identification.

“Yes, I can see that.” Cutler replied, “I like your style.”

He hoped that sounded suave, like killing was nothing to him. Like he could kill a hundred humans and not even break a sweat. He wasn’t sure it was working.

The young man, whose gold name tag read ‘Eliot’, looked down at himself. “Oh, this is just a uniform. I wear it while I’m working.”

“No, no I meant…”

The man smiled again, this time in amusement, but it wasn’t cruel or mocking. “I know what you meant. It was a joke. Sorry, it doesn’t matter.”

Cutler blushed, embarrassed at his blunder. God, he was coming across like a complete social incompetent. “No, I- yes I get it now. Uniform.”

There was an awkward pause before Eliot asked, “Can I…get you another drink?”

“Yes please, thank you.”

Cutler watched as Eliot decanted a generous measure of gin. When he’d finished, he passed the drink across the bar and their fingers touched just for a moment.

Cutler raised the glass to his lips and downed it in one. If he wanted to get drunk, he would have to get serious. Having a vampiric constitution certainly didn’t make it easy. He could drink five times the amount a human could, and hardly feel a thing.

“Thirsty?” the man asked.

“You’d better believe it.”

The man tilted his head to one side in a way that reminded him of Hal. “You know, you can have some of the good stuff if you want. Just ask one of the waitresses to go upstairs with you, it’s what they’re there for.”

Cutler considered this for a moment as he sloshed the ice around in his glass. His throat was burning and the more he thought about it, the more he could smell the blood pumping through the veins of the humans around him. But if he so much as tasted a drop, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself.

As if reading his thoughts, Eliot said, “Don’t worry about it, you’re with Lord Harry so it’s open bar. No charge.”

Cutler considered it for a moment. On the one hand, free blood. On the other…No. No, he couldn’t do it. That’s why he was down here in the bar getting plastered, instead of upstairs getting what he really wanted.

He shook his head, “Maybe later, just give me another drink”

“Ok, sure thing,” the handsome vampire said. “Do you want me to keep lining these up for you?”

“Yes, go on then.”

But the sugary taste was cloying and he regretted asking for such a sweet drink. “Actually, maybe just leave the bottle?” he requested, as Eliot picked up the gin.

“Yeah, I can do that. But…you’re sure you’re not looking for something else?”

“No, this is fine.”

Eliot raised his eyebrows. “Ok, well then it looks like we’re going to be spending some time together.”

Cutler poured some gin into his glass and took a large swig. “Well, it’s better than drinking alone.” He paused after realizing what he’d just said. “Christ, that’s depressing isn’t it? I mean, you’re working. You’re literally being paid to talk to me.”

Eliot shrugged. “Sure, but I don’t mind the company. This isn’t really the kind of place where people want to talk to the bartender. Most nights I’m just filling drink orders for the waitresses…oh speaking of.”

One of the club girls approached him and handed him a piece of paper torn from a notepad. Eliot looked apologetically at Cutler.

“Excuse me, I just need to make these.”

Cutler waved for him to go ahead and poured more gin into his glass. But he found that he couldn’t help watching as the other man poured cocktails and decanted spirits with such smooth, easy motions, before adding the finishing touches: cherries, mint leaves, just a splash of lemon. Then he was wiping his hands on a towel and the drinks were whisked away.

“What’s your name, by the way?” Eliot asked.

“Cutler. Nick Cutler. I prefer Nick.” Where had that come from? Cutler wondered. No one called him Nick, not really. Not anymore.

“So Nick, you’re one of Lord Harry’s men? What do you do for him?”

“I’m his…” lots of words ran through Cutler’s head. Recruit, protege…lover? “Lawyer. Most of the time. But we’re on holiday, which obviously you know. And I’ve got nothing better to do, so I might as well get pissed.”

He took another gulp of gin. He was starting to feel better now and was getting pleasantly lightheaded.

He watched as Eliot rolled up his sleeves, revealing strong, muscular arms.

“Maybe I could show you around sometime? Brighton’s got a lot to offer, if you know where to look.”

Why not? Cutler thought, loosening his tie. It wasn’t the worst idea in the world. He was new in town, and he had a right to enjoy himself didn’t, he? Fergus had told him to go and have some fun, after all.

“Maybe. Sometime.”

Cutler rolled up his shirt sleeves, and then rolled them back down again after realising that his arms and were still red and peeling.

Unfortunately, Eliot seemed to have noticed. “Go out in the sun today? Big mistake, especially if you’re not on the blood.

Cutler frowned. “I’m not _not_ on the blood, exactly. It’s just…killing’s a whole other thing isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know, I took to it from the start,”

“You’re lucky. It’s not so easy, for some of us.”

“Wait, so you’ve never killed anyone?” Eliot asked.

Cutler shot furtive glance at him to see if he was going to make fun of him.

“No,” he admitted.

And he hadn’t. That was the problem. It was supposed to be Rachel, Hal had wanted it to be Rachel. As if, in some twisted way, killing his wife would prove his loyalty to him. And after he couldn’t do it…after what they’d done to her, the whole thing just made him feel sick. Like he was drowning in memories, every time he so much as thought about killing. But that didn’t stop him craving blood. In fact, he was pretty sure the more he agonized over killing, the worse the thirst became. Of course, he didn’t say any of this aloud to the handsome vampire who was watching him so intently. It was nice to have someone actually listen to him for once, and he didn’t want to seem completely pathetic.

He downed the rest of the gin, as if the answer was at the bottom of his glass.

“Sorry, it’s none of my business.” Eliot said apologetically, after it was clear that Cutler wasn’t going to say anymore.

“So…do you like being a bartender?” Cutler asked, changing the subject.

Eliot shrugged nonchalantly. “It pays the bills, I guess. But I like working here. It’s good to be somewhere where people know what I am. Where I don’t have to hide.”

“Where you’re hidden in plain sight.”

“Sure.” Eliot hesitated, as if not sure whether he was about to cross a line, “I can see that you are, you know.

“What?”

“Hiding”

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” Cutler said automatically. “And who the hell do you think you are? You don’t know me.”

He glared at him defiantly, and Eliot looked back at him, meeting his gaze. His eyes held Cutler with a stare that seemed to see into his soul. Or whatever was left of it.

“You’re right, I don’t. But the thing about losing your reflection, is that you start to see yourself in other people. Believe me, it wasn’t long ago I was where you are now.”

“And where is it you think I am, exactly?” said Cutler exasperatedly.

“Scared, alone. Confused by what you’re feeling. And so thirsty that you think you won’t last another moment without it.”

Cutler breathed out a long sigh. The man was right. That was exactly how he was feeling. And he felt so defeated that the other vampire could read it on him so clearly. There was no point in trying to hide. When he inhaled, he noticed that the man smelled really good. Not just his sweet, musky cologne: it was more complex than that. It was strong, vital. Perhaps it was all the fresh blood he’d been drinking.

“Listen, I’ve got a break soon. Maybe we could go outside and get some fresh air?”

Cutler hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether the man was offering what thought he was. But if he was wrong and the man took offense, he was under Hal’s protection. And he was drunk enough that the stab of shame he felt about going with the other man was numbed.

He took another sip of gin and looked up to meet Eliot’s gaze.

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

*

The upstairs corridors were dimly lit with red sconces that cast dark shadows on the wall as they passed. Isabella ushered Maddy and Hal into a room that was decorated like a Victorian boudoir with plush red velvet sofas and ferns cascading from gold pots. There was a monstrous four poster bed against one wall, but that was not what caught her attention.

There was a girl tied to the posts, her hands bound tightly with ropes which were chafing her wrists painfully. They had dressed her like a doll in a white cotton nightgown that was supposed to make her look virginal. Her long red hair hung loose about her bare shoulders and her mouth was gagged to stop her from screaming.

“Handpicked, just for you,” the succubus said, her lips curving into a devious smile.

“Remove the gag from her mouth,” Hal commanded, his eyes drinking in the sight of the captive who was to be their tribute. He always liked to make them scream.

Isabella tugged it off, and as it fell away Maddy saw that the girl was crying. More than that, she was sobbing desperately. She watched as the salty tracks run down her neck. A part of her felt sorry for the girl, but that part was drifting further and further away. Mostly it just made her feel hungry.

It was less complicated, if she focused on the rapid pounding of blood sluicing through the tribute’s veins. She knew that it would wash away everything, and she wouldn’t feel this pain, wouldn’t feel anything at all, if only she could reach out and taste…

Hal’s smile was truly frightening as his fangs manifested.

“Ladies first.”

He wanted to watch, as she lost herself.

She took a step forward unsteadily.

*

Cutler was outside in the alley smoking a cigarette and wondering if he’d made a mistake. He’d been waiting for over twenty minutes and there was no sign of Eliot. With a huff, he dropped the cigarette and was about to go back inside when the door opened.

Eliot’s eyes glinted wickedly in the light from the streetlamp.

“Sorry I kept you, my replacement was late.”

“That’s fine.”

“So…now what?”

The man smiled.

“Now, we do this.”

Eliot pressed him against the wall and before he could say another word, he felt the man’s mouth on his. The way he kissed was so tender that it took Cutler by surprise. It wasn’t violent or desperate. In fact, it was almost gentle. It made Cutler a little uncomfortable, how easy it was to kiss him back. But then he stopped thinking about it, as the man pressed up against him and he felt his arousal growing. His cock was hard, and he gasped as the man ground his hips against him. The feeling of the other vampire’s erection pressed against his own excited Cutler more than he wanted to admit. He felt lightheaded, like a giddy teenager as he kissed Eliot and it shocked him how effortless it felt. Cutler had occasionally thought about doing something like this, propositioning some man and having it off with him, but never in a hundred years imagined that he’d go through with it.

Emboldened by this thought, or perhaps the gin, he asks. “Do you think you could give me…you know…?”

“What? You want me to touch you like this?”

Eliot reached down to touch him, palming him through his trousers and making him gasp aloud.

“No, I mean, I like that, but do you think you could…you know, with your mouth?”

Eliot smirked suggestively, “You only had to ask.”

*

The girl’s bare shoulders were dotted with summer freckles. It reminded Maddy of a speckled robin’s egg dashed to the ground. All that she could hear was the sound of blood being pumped fast through the girl’s veins by her fluttering heart. She wanted to let go, but she couldn’t seem to relinquish the shred of humanity that was keeping her from it.

It should be so easy.

Maddy made the mistake of looking at her face, and she saw that the girl’s eyes were wide and terrified. But at the same time, the flush of pink pooling beneath her white skin was deliciously arousing and all she could smell was the sweetness of living blood, inches away from her.

She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, they were black.

She was barely even aware of what she was doing, as she took the girl by the throat and sunk her fangs into her neck. There was a moment before the blood came where she hated herself for doing this, for what’d become. She wanted to die. Or better yet, kill Hal for making her do this. Kill the whole damned lot of them. Then the pale skin tore beneath her fangs, and the blood gushed out sweetly with the girl’s screams.

She heard Hal moan as he watched her feed, and wanted to feel him close to her as she sank down into the sensation, as the blood rushed to meet her lips like a spring welling up from the earth. The girl was screaming now, but the sound couldn’t reach her, she was so lost in the feeling and the taste of it. Life, sweet, sweet life was filling her and making her whole again. How had she forgotten what this was like? She felt herself disappearing as she melted into it and became lost in the memory of dew on the grass warming in the morning sun, pancakes frying in oil, jazz on the radio, watching her dance…

She pulled back from the girl, suddenly dizzy the memory crashed over her like a wave. She had to get out, to escape from there. Hal was feasting on the girl’s arm and didn’t notice as she pulled away.

She stumbled towards the door, and her hand caught it as she heard Isabella’s voice ask, “What are you doing?”.

She fell back, gesturing vaguely at the door. She couldn’t think straight with the blood clouding thoughts.

“I have to…I’ve got to go” she managed, before disappearing down the corridor at a run.

*

Cutler closed his eyes and moaned softly as he felt Eliot’s lips on him, hot and wet. The man was kneeling before him and taking him deep into his mouth, and it felt unbelievably good. He was clearly well practiced at this sort of thing. Part of him wanted to watch as the man swallowed him, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to. He didn’t want to think too much, and it was easier to enjoy it if he keeps his eyes shut.

He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He longed to reach out and bury them in the man’s hair, but he was scared that would make Eliot pull away. That it would seem too clingy. He settled for digging his fingers into the wall and was only half aware of them gouging into the brick, collecting dust beneath his nails.

Cutler could feel that he was close, though he wanted the feeling to go on forever. He felt the delicious ache, the need for it building and a dark part of him wanted Eliot to bite him. Though, as lost as he was, he knew that would be wrong. Hal would never forgive him that transgression. Oh Christ, he wasn’t even thinking about Hal how would react to this, if he found out…

*

Red, the walls were all red, a maze of veins and arteries. The blood on her hands was disappearing into the wallpaper, as though it was trying to absorb her. The lights lining the corridor bobbed and swirled before her eyes as she ran, somewhere, anywhere but back there. Then there were stairs going down, and she almost tripped and fell, her hands slipping on the bannister. And then a door, locked. She broke the handle, and it came away in her hand and she fell through it into the alley.

The sight that greeted her was of two men, one kneeling on the ground in front of the other. She recognised the one standing with his back up against the wall as Cutler. His head was thrown back, and his shirt was unbuttoned at the collar to reveal the newly healed bite marks that laced his neck.

Then he caught sight of her and pushed the other away, hastily pulling up his trousers.

“I’ll see you around, I guess?” The other man said to him, disappearing back inside the club.

Cutler didn’t say anything. He was frozen to the spot, staring at her. He was mortified, he wanted to die of shame. He couldn’t believe that she, of all people, had seen him with that man. He wanted to say that it was a mistake, that he’d been tricked into it. To say something that would convince her that she hadn’t seen exactly what she’d just seen.

Then a thought hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks. Oh god, she’d tell Hal, wouldn’t she? Then he’d be in for it. He didn’t have any idea how his maker would react, but the thought of him finding out terrified him worse than anything in the world. Would he punish him? Humiliate him by telling the others? What if he sent him away? Christ, would he stake him for it?

“It…it’s not what you think”, he said weakly.

She was confused, nothing seemed real. Seagulls wheeled overhead like ghosts in the darkness, and rain was falling like stars. She heard rats scuttling through the rubbish around her, and could almost feel their tiny claws on her skin. But it was still better than being back inside.

“What? I don’t…” she trailed off.

The world was spinning around her, and she sank down to the ground, gasping for breath she didn’t need. She wished she could get free of the taste of it in her mouth, the feeling of being full with it like a leech. That it felt _good_ inside her was worse than anything.

Cutler looked at her properly. She wasn’t saying anything or doing anything, just sitting on the wet floor of the alley without a care for her dress. Her hair was dishevelled, and she wasn’t even wearing any shoes. She was completely out of it, he realised, as he looked at the fresh smears of blood around her mouth.

“Are you alright?” he asked tentatively.

She didn’t reply. Memories were clawing their way to the surface of her mind. She couldn’t do this. She wanted to die. She realised that there were tears running down her cheeks. Oh god, the vase. She saw it falling…

He cleared his throat, his own embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “Um…is there anything that I can do?”

She shook her head.

“Just…I need to get away from here. Anywhere.”

“Well, maybe we can just walk for a bit?”

“Yes, yes walking is good. I need to keep moving.”

“Here.” Cutler pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

She took it and wiped the blood from her face. When she was done, she rose unsteadily and let it fall to the ground.

He offered her his arm, and they began walking. She seemed lost in her own thoughts, completely unaware of her surroundings as they wound their way through the alleys towards the sea. Cutler just hoped that she was intoxicated enough not to remember what she’d just seen. Somehow, he doubted it.

They ended up on the beach, watching the black waves crash onto the shore. They sat on the stony shore in the darkness, Cutler waiting nervously to see what she would say. After a sitting for a while, she seemed to sober up a little.

He cleared his throat. “Can I just say that it really wasn’t what it looked like. Before, I mean.”

She sighed, as though she were exhausted. “I don’t care, Cutler. It’s none of my business.”

“Right, well ok then. I just wouldn’t want there to be any…misunderstandings.”

“Like I said, I don’t care.” She paused for a moment, running her fingers through her hair.

Though it had stopped raining, there was a cold wind blowing from the sea and Cutler was glad he had his coat with him. The woman was only wearing a dress, but she seemed not to notice. This close to her, he could feel waves of heat radiating from her skin. Another effect of the blood.

She was only making her hair messier as she combed through it, but she seemed not to notice. The way she was doing it seemed almost compulsive.

She caught him staring.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“I don’t care that you’re seeing me like this”, she slurred. “Goddamit, I know I’m a mess. I don’t care what you think of me.”

He blinked, taken aback. Her bluntness made him uncomfortable, but he put it down to the blood talking.

“Can I ask, did something happen back there?”, he ventured.

She laughed and the terrible, broken sound of it made him regret that he’d asked.

“Before, in the car. You said you couldn’t kill, that you had no stomach for it. That you kept messing up, every time you tried. And I thought to myself, ‘Oh, I remember how that was, but it seems like so long ago. It’s so easy, now so effortless.” She chuckled bitterly, “At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.”

Cutler couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and there was something dreadful about her confession. He’d thought it was just because he was young, that it would only be a matter of time before he’d be able to do it. But how old was she? He had no idea. Older than Fergus, at any rate. Did that mean that he would still be struggling with this a hundred years from now?

“There was a man. A boy really, on the train to London. She raked her fingers through her hair as she spoke. “I thought about it, lord knows I did. But I told myself, it’s too public, too risky. She hung her head, her hair falling over her face. “I kept telling myself; it will be different when you see him. You’ll be able to this time and then…” She trailed off. “I just want to forget. But every time I try…god, the girl they brought was delicious, so alive…and even then, I couldn’t.”

She looked at him, and he felt naked under the scrutiny of her grey eyes. It was strange, to be this close to her. She was warm and he could almost taste the blood on her. He longed to bury his face into her dark curls to inhale the scent. He realised that he was still aroused, and this closeness was confusing him.

“Do you miss her?”, she asked suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Your wife? What was her name?”

“Rachel. Her name was Rachel and…” he tried to speak, but it’s was too painful.

“Did you love her?”

“Yes”, he whispered hoarsely.

“Did she suspect what was happening when you started coming home late, and your skin grew cold to the touch like a corpse?

Nick looked away from her, blinking back tears. This was why he couldn’t trust her. Because like Hal, she knew exactly how to hurt him.

But the older vampire seemed not to notice his reaction, and instead was looking out at the dark sea. I should go somewhere else and start again, she thought. Ivan’s been running from his demons ever since I recruited him, and they’ve never caught up with him yet. Perhaps that’s a better way to live.

“Got any cigarettes?”

Disgruntled, Cutler searched in his jacket pocket.

“Yeah. Here.”

He opened the packet and took two out. He lit his own, and then leant over to light hers, cupping the flame against the wind. Her hand was warm on his cold flesh, and he was tempted to run his hand up her bare arm. Christ, he was freezing. He’d almost forgotten how it felt, to touch a woman like this. Her skin was so soft, so alive. Without the pressure to feed on her, it was so easy. He realised that his hand was lingering on hers, and quickly withdrew it.

“My wife,” he said after a minute, “Rachel. She thought I was having an affair.”

She took a pull on her cigarette, then exhaled a cloud of smoke into the briny air. His eyes lingered on her lips. They were red and flushed with blood.

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

“No! It wasn’t like that. I would never have been unfaithful to her.”

“But clearly you’re interested in charms other than those possessed by women.”

“Please, don’t…”

She held her hand up in apology.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again.”

There was a moment of silence, filled only by the waves which swelled and crashed onto the shore before the water washed away in a hush of stones.

It’s like we’re at the edge of the world, she thought. Like we’re safe. Only, we’re not. I’m bloody terrified, all the time and I don’t even know why. Shouldn’t I at least know what I’m running from? If only I could remember…

“He killed her, you know.” Cutler admitted. “He told me to do it, but I couldn’t…not that. Then he made me drink her blood and he…he showed me what they’d done to her. They’d put her on this horrible metal frame and there were tubes sticking out of her neck. She was still wearing her nightgown.”

“That’s…I’m so sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. Nothing she could say would be sufficient to ease his pain.

“Thank you.” He drew tobacco smoke into his lungs, without really feeling it. “I think you’re the first person that’s ever said that to me.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Nick”.

Cutler felt his stomach dip, as though he was standing atop a cliff. She’s dangerous, he reminded himself. Even if she looks vulnerable, remember what she is. You can’t trust her.

He shook his head.

“Don’t. Just…don’t say that.”

She stood up then and seemed to gather herself together, brushing the dirt from her dress.

“I’m glad it was you that found me, Cutler,” she said. “And I’ll promise not to tell Hal, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

He looked up at her.

“What, really? Do you swear?”

“Yes, of course. Although, I really don’t think he’d care.”

He stubbed out his cigarette on a rock. “Then you don’t know him as well as you think you do.”

“Perhaps your right. Afterall, how can I really know him after fifty years?”

“Don’t ask me. I’ve only been a vampire for two.”

She cooed. “Oh, you’re still a baby!”

“Oh god, don’t start,” he grimaced. “I’ve been getting that all day from Fergus.”

“Just ignore him, he’s an idiot.”

“On that at least, we both agree.”


	10. Chapter 10

By the time they reached the hotel, Maddy was falling asleep against him. The blood could take you like that, Cutler thought, especially if it had been a long time since you’d last had any. He supported her with her arm around his shoulder. As he held her against him, she felt surprisingly small and vulnerable in his arms.

“Madeline? Can you hear me?,” he asked.

“mmmhhmmm”

“Good, now we’re going into the hotel so I need you to keep quiet, can you do that?”

“mmm”

He half carried her through the doors of the hotel, past the reception desk where the night porter looked up from his crossword and gave them a cursory glance.

Cutler paused for a moment before saying, “The wife had one too many at the club. She’s got no head for liquor.”

The man chuckled and waved them past, “Seen it all before.”

Cutler breathed a sigh of relief as the entered the elevator.

*

It became obvious that Madeline had lost her key as well as her shoes. Cutler had expected as much, so he relented and let her into his room where she promptly collapsed on his bed and fell asleep.

Well, that just made things a lot more complicated.

He sighed and went down to the bar to wait. It was past midnight, but there were still a few customers nursing drinks and hanging around, putting off sleep for whatever reason. He ordered a drink and slumped down into a chair, exhausted by the events of the night.

It was another hour before Hal returned with the others. They were laughing and clearly still blood drunk but had a restless energy about them that made Cutler uneasy. Hal’s hair was dishevelled and his tie askew. He carried his suit jacket was over on arm. The others were in a similar state of disarray, but despite their easy-going appearance they kept shooting Hal nervous glances when they thought he wasn’t looking.

Then Hal’s eyes fixed on Cutler.

“Where is she?”, he demanded, his voice laced with cold fury.

“It’s alright, she’s asleep upstairs in my room.”

Without a word, Hal pulled him up by the scruff of the neck and forced him into the elevator. Cutler could smell a mixture of blood and alcohol on his breath. It was just the two of them, and Hal didn’t say another word, or even look at him until they reached their floor. When they got to the door of Cutler’s room, he fumbled with his keys to unlock it.

It was dark inside, but they could both clearly see the shape of Madeline asleep in bed. Quietly, Hal closed the door and relocked it. Then putting his hand on the younger man’s back, he steered him towards his own room.

“Get in,” Hal hissed.

Cutler obeyed without a word.

When they were inside, Hal rounded on him and pinned up him against the wall by his throat.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?”

“W-what?”, Cutler gasped.

“You both disappeared at the club, and now I find you back here and she’s asleep in your bed?”

Cutler noticed that Hal was slurring his words, which he knew meant that he was pretty out of it. Perhaps that was why he was being so unreasonable.

“Yeah, well she forgot her keys so I let her have my room.”

Hal moved closer to him so that he was just inches away from his face.

“You’re missing the point Cutler. Tell me why you disappeared, and exactly where you went.”

Hal’s grip loosened a little and Cutler licked his lips nervously. He wasn’t sure how much he should tell him. He didn’t know how his maker would react if he knew what she had confided to him, and he certainly didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Hal’s anger. He decided to play it safe.

“She wasn’t feeling well and wanted some fresh air, so we went for a walk to the beach,” he said reasonably.

“ _Wasn’t feeling well?”,_ Hal pulled back from him, a frown creasing his brow. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Cutler swallowed nervously, rubbing his throat. “I really couldn’t say.”

He reached for Cutler's neck again. Cutler flinched away, but Hal only readjusted his collar absentmindedly. Cutler was alarmed by how on edge Hal seemed and was extremely nervous about being this close to him. Who knew what he might do in this state?

“So you both left without my permission.” Hal ran a hand through his hair as if to smooth it down, but only succeeded in making it messier. “What’s that about, Cutler? What have you got to say for yourself?”

“It wasn’t my idea!” Cutler protested, “I just did what she asked.”

“And you didn’t think to come and inform me?” Hal demanded. “This isn’t our town, Cutler. It’s not safe to wander off. You could have been followed by anyone looking to make a name for themselves.” Cutler had never seen Hal agitated like this, and the sight disturbed him. The man seemed almost paranoid.

“It was fine, really. We didn’t see anyone.”

“Well, you were bloody lucky,” he snapped. Hal paused his fussing with Cutler’s collar and smoothed his hands down his chest. “You think I can protect you all the time? Think you’re safe, just because of my name? You can’t rely on it forever, can’t rely on me…” he trailed off.

“What do you mean?”

Hal shook his head as if to clear his mind. “Just…you should learn to take care of yourself. It’s juvenile, how you act sometimes. And she should know better than to drag you along with her.”

He walked over to the chest of drawers, on top of which was an unopened bottle of whiskey. He unscrewed it and poured himself a large glass. He definitely didn’t need it, Cutler thought. He was already drunk enough as it was, and it would probably just make him even more erratic. Without asking, he poured another and handed it to Cutler. He accepted it and took a hesitant sip. Misery loves company, he thought as he watched Hal down the glass. Not that Hal had any right to be miserable. He had everything a vampire could have wanted. He was rich, powerful, charismatic, not to mention good looking. He was a bloody Old One, for god’s sake. He could have anyone and anything he so desired. So why then did he seem so…Cutler wasn’t even sure what the right word was. Dissatisfied? Restless? Bored?

Cutler took another swallow of his whiskey, but Hal was already pouring another glass.

“Ever since she’s come back, it’s like I don’t understand her.” Hal murmured, as if to himself. “I don’t know what’s going through her mind.”

Cutler shuffled awkwardly. He didn’t know what to say, he was out of his depth here. He wasn't sure if Hal was asking for advice, or if he just wanted someone to listen to his problems. Thankfully, that seemed to be all Hal had to say on the subject and as he downed the whiskey, he seemed to forget what he’d just been saying.

A lazy smile spread across his face as he came over to Cutler and once more began running his hands over him. Hal began unbuttoning his shirt, and Cutler’s breathing grew heavy as his maker caressed his chest. The fact that Hal was clearly just using him to distract himself made Cutler feel like a plaything, but a sick part of him didn’t even care. He longed to feel his skin against Hal’s and shivered with anticipation. He realised that his frustration from earlier in the night hadn’t gone away, and as if reading his mind he felt Hal’s hands slip inside his waistband. As his maker stroked his cock, Cutler realised that he’d been wanting this for days now. He couldn’t help but moan as Hal’s grip tightened. Hal’s touch was completely different to Eliot’s, full of control and possession, but Cutler couldn’t think about that now.

Hal leaned into his neck and licked the fading scars with his tongue, sending shivers running through Cutler’s body. The dark part of him wanted Hal to open them again and drink from him, to take all of his blood for himself. But the other part of him, the one that was still in some way human, was terrified that he would do exactly that. But then he felt Hal pulling him over to the bed, and as he fell back onto the mattress he felt as though he would never stop falling.

*

When it was over, Hal reached for the half drunk bottle of whiskey next to the bed and took a swig. And then another. Cutler lay at his side half asleep, but even through his contented daze he wasn’t sure if he should stay. He certainly didn’t want any of the others finding him here, all sweaty and dishevelled. But he couldn’t exactly go back to his room with the woman sleeping in his bed, and Hal didn’t seem about to kick him out. In fact, the man seemed more interested getting plastered.

“Should I- do you want me to go?”, he asked hesitantly.

Hal shrugged. “I really don’t give a damn what you do, Cutler.”

“But earlier you said-”

Hal looked at him with an expression of irritation.

“Never mind, I’ll just leave,” Cutler mumbled. “I’ll go and sleep on Fergus’ floor or something.”

Hal’s mercurial moods were confusing, to say the least. Cutler preferred it when his maker was imperious and commanding, even if it made him more predisposed to violence. At least then he knew what to expect. He didn’t know how to act around him like this. He wondered what Hal would do if he stayed here until morning. Cutler had never done that before, and he had to admit that he was curious what it would be like to sleep next to him. But it didn’t seem like Hal had any intention of sleeping, at least not until he’d drunk the rest of the whiskey.

He watched as Hal rose and walked unsteadily out onto the balcony, bottle in hand. He was completely naked, but he didn’t seem to care. Cutler wondered if he should go after him. After a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed a dressing gown from the back of the door and followed him out. He watched as Hal tipped the whiskey bottle up to get the last of it, and then dropped it over the side of the balcony. From somewhere far below came the distant sound of glass shattering. Hal didn’t turn around as Cutler approached, even when he reached out hesitantly and touched his shoulder. He was really starting to wonder what was going on now. 

When Hal faced him, his mouth was pulled into a strange smile and his eyes were drunk and bleary.

“I bet you wonder why I did it, don’t you?”, he said.

“What?”

“Why I chose you, out of so many others.”

Cutler wanted to believe that it was because he was special, because Hal had seen something in him that suggested he could be a great man, a history maker…but he didn’t think that Hal was about to say any of those things. Hal seemed to be waiting for a reply, so he said simply, “I suppose I have wondered.”

Hal chuckled at that. “There was no significance, really. It could have been anyone. You were just convenient.”

Cutler’s heart sank. He’d thought as much, but the way Hal said it still hurt. Which was exactly why he had said it, he realised.

Hal stepped closer, and Cutler could the smell the whiskey on his breath. When his maker kissed him hungrily, he tasted it mingling with the blood and it sent shivers of arousal running through him. Cutler was worried that someone would see them like this, but Hal didn’t seem to care. He started to forget his concerns as Hal began undoing his dressing gown. He felt his hands slide in and snake around his waist, pulling his hips close. Cutler moaned as he felt his cock respond to the contact, to the feeling of Hal’s hardness pressed against him. The man wasn’t even moving, and yet this is what he did to him. Cutler bit his lip to stifle a moan. God, did he have no self-restraint? He was disgusted with himself that he was still so eager for it, despite their earlier activities. But it was like the blood: he was always hungry for it, even when he'd more than had his fill. He wondered if that was a vampire thing, because he'd certainly never felt like this in his old life.

As Hal held him, he kissed softly along his jawline and down his neck to where a fresh bite was slowly weeping blood. Cutler trembled as he felt Hal’s tongue lick it, and then he heard him whisper in his ear: “It’s obvious to me now that you’ll never amount to anything, but at least you’re still useful for whenever I fancy a drink...or a fuck.”

Cutler pulled away, disgusted by the words. He wanted to leave. He turned to go, but Hal grabbed him by the arm. A strange expression crossed his maker’s face then, one he’d never seen before. Almost as if he were ashamed. And then it was gone, and he felt the grip of Hal’s fingers tighten on his arm.

“You think you can just leave, like that?”, he hissed.

“I thought you didn’t give a damn what I did?” Cutler retorted.

“Well, now I’m telling you to stay.”

“Fine, I’ll stay then!” He shouted. “God, make your mind up.”

His master looked at him coldly.

“I must say, I find this attitude _very_ disrespectful, Cutler.”

Cutler said nothing but frowned sullenly back at him.

Hal released his grip, and once more his expression seemed to clear as if a dark cloud had passed. There was a peculiar look in his eyes, and for a moment Cutler felt that he was looking at another person entirely.

“Please stay with me Nick,” the man said quietly.

That was enough, Cutler gave up. He was confused and utterly exhausted by the events of the night, but he’d do anything if Hal said his name like that. And, he admitted, he wanted the feeling of his mouth on him again.

“Ok, fine. I’ll stay.” He realised that there was light in the sky now, and the darkness was fading to the grey of dawn. “Perhaps we should go to bed?”

Hal looked up at the sky. “Yes, I suppose that would be the best course of action.” He stroked Cutler’s face. “Although, I must confess that I don’t plan on sleeping quite yet.”

*

Cutler had to admit that the man certainly could hold his alcohol. Most couldn’t even get it up after they’d had that much to drink. But then again, Hal had been born when people drank beer instead of water.

He felt Hal’s hands in his hair, pulling his neck back a little. He liked the feeling, though he’d never admit it to anyone. He wanted Hal to put his hands around his throat and choke him, but he couldn’t articulate it, could only moan as his maker thrust into him. Cutler never wanted to stop feeling this way, so good and full with Hal’s prick inside him. And god, how he hated himself for it. He even heard himself saying, “Please Hal, please,” but he didn’t know what it was he was begging for.

Hal laughed, “You want me to fuck you harder, you greedy little queer?”

But Cutler was too lost to even care and moaned, “Yes! Please, oh god Hal I need it, I need you…”

Hal was holding him by the neck now, and he cried out as the sensation overwhelmed him. He’d probably already have choked if he were human, so thank god he wasn’t. His master continued to fuck him hard, almost brutally as if he were about to come. But then, Hal moved so that he was almost on top of him and sank his fangs into his shoulder. Cutler barely even felt the pain of it, as everything blurred together into one sensation that he never wanted to end.

“Yes, I’m for you, for you, Hal…” he moaned, not even sure where these words were coming from. Hal was thrusting into him in time with the blood he was taking, and Cutler felt himself unable to hold back any longer. He came with a moan, spilling himself in his hand.

But Hal hadn’t finished with him yet. His breathing was ragged now as he continued to fuck Cutler, and from the way he was pulling back on his shoulder he seemed to barely to know his own strength. Cutler turned his head to look at him, but Hal seemed to be completely gone. There was only black eyes and fangs. His last coherent thought was that this Hal was so different from the cold man who was so in control of himself. Then Hal’s grip tightened, and Cutler felt a searing pain his shoulder.

He collapsed onto his stomach with a cry of pain, unable to hold himself up any longer.

“What?” Hal asked blearily through a haze of arousal.

“Stop, Hal! Jesus Christ, my shoulder!” Cutler moaned. He felt trapped, and when he realised that he couldn't move his arm he started to panic.

Hal sighed and moved off him reluctantly. “Let me see it,” he commanded.

Part of Cutler wanted to curl up into a ball and whimper until the pain stopped. But the more sensible part of him grabbed Hal's hand and managed to sit up so that he could examine his shoulder. As Hal’s fingers traced over it, he felt a stabbing pain and the _wrongness_ of bone jutting out at a sharp angle.

“It’s dislocated,” Hal pronounced, “And I'm too drunk to fix it, so I’ll get Fergus to do it for you."

“What?!” Cutler’s eyes grew wide and fearful. “No, no please! I’ll never hear the end of it if he sees me like this!”

Hal smirked at the horrified look on his face. “So you’d rather be in excruciating pain than be seen in my bed? Well, I suppose it’s your shoulder.” He inclined his head as if thinking. “Although, it will start to heal soon, so if you don’t want me to have to break it again then you better get him to set it in place correctly.” He tightened his grip slightly and Cutler cried out in pain.

“Christ! Alright, fine.”

Hal put on a dressing gown and left the room. A few moments later he returned with Fergus in tow.

Cutler desperately tried to think of some excuse for why he was he was in Hal’s bed, completely naked and covered in bodily fluids. But he was in too much pain to come up with anything clever, so he said nothing. Besides, the situation was too bloody obvious even for Fergus to overlook.

Fergus looked down at Cutler with an amused expression, but the man didn’t so such as look surprised. Then his heart sank. They all knew, he realised with dread. Of course, they did. All the sideways looks and snide remarks suddenly made sense. Fergus, Louis, Dennis, they all knew what Hal had been doing with him, and they’d said nothing. Somehow, that made everything so much worse.

“Get a bit carried away, milord?”, Fergus said to Hal with a smirk.

“Something like that.” Hal replied, walking over to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower, please leave when you’re done Fergus.”

“Right you are, milord.”

When the door had shut Cutler said, “Why don’t you bow and lick his fucking arse while you’re at it?”

“Says you." Fergus cackled, "I can see his fang marks on your neck. Anyway, is that how you talk to the man about to fix your bloody shoulder?”

“Alright, just get on with it," Cutler groaned as another wave of pain seared through his back. He gritted his teeth to stop from screaming as Fergus located the joint, and with a crunching sound snapped the bone back into socket.

“Fuck!”

Fergus tutted. “You know, you could be a bit more grateful.”

“Grateful?,” Cutler panted, feeling pain still cascading down his arm. At least now he could move it. “You’re helping me out of the kindness of your heart, are you?”

“Not me you idiot.” He inclined his head in the direction of the bathroom. “You’d be surprised how many people would kill to share his bed.”

“So, I should be happy that he dislocated my fucking shoulder?,” Cutler shouted, “Is that what you’re saying?”

Fergus seemed entertained by his outburst, but nevertheless kept one eye on the bathroom door. “All I’m saying is, he’s your maker so there’s no shame in it. And if he decides to keep you around, who knows where you could be a couple of hundred years from now?”

“Is that why you’re still following him around like a whipped dog?,” Cutler snapped. “You even call him ‘milord’ for god’s sake!”

“You don’t know a bloody thing, you little shit,” Fergus snarled. “Normally I’d knock you sideways for that, but I wouldn’t want to damage Lord Harry’s little toy.” He paused and looked at Cutler’s injured shoulder, “any more than he already has.”

“Just fuck off.”

“Gladly.”

Fergus stormed out banging the door behind him, and Cutler collapsed back on the bed with a groan. He felt tears welling in his eyes from the pain. It had been such a long night. By the time Hal returned, he had half fallen asleep from exhaustion. He felt a cloth being wiped over his body, and then Hal was tapping on his cheek lightly to get his attention.

“Cutler. Wake up.”

“Christ, what now?”

“Drink.”

He felt Hal pressing something to his lips. A flask, full of fresh blood. He gulped it down instinctively, knowing that this was the medicine he needed. He drank eagerly, feeling how the delicious liquid flowed into him and immediately began washing away the pain in his arm and shoulder. In that moment, he would have killed for it without a second thought.

“Just think, you could taste this every night Nick," Hal whispered, stroking his hair as he drank. “Nothing’s holding you back but yourself.”

But already the flask was running dry, and as Cutler realised this he started crying. Everything that had happened in those last few months, those last few years, all the sorrow in his whole life, none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that there was no more blood.

As he wept, Hal held him forlornly in his arms because there was nothing more that he could do.

“Sleep now Nick, just sleep,” he whispered. “Everything will be better in the morning.”

But of course, that was just another lie.


End file.
